THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


AND 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Q,  TJ  x  nsr  IDT 


CONNERSVILLE,  IND. 


CINCINNATI : 

ELM  STEEBT  PRINTING  COMPANY,  176  AND  178  ELM  STREET 
1872. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872,  by 

ALICE    MAY    QUINN, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


PS 


Preface        -_---_-.--         6 
Dedication  Address  to  Old  Fayette          -       -       -       -       -     7 

Sweet  Astreanere         --------        13 

The  Battle  of  Brandywine       .--.-..36 
Lelah  Grayson      -._--__.        -        46 
The  Fall  of  Darius  Codomannus  II.         -        -        -        -       -    65 

The  Haunted  Well      --._..        _        .        63 
An  Evening  Dreani          .--....-69 

Love  and  Ambition     -_--__-.        74 
The  Warrior's  Fate         -        -        -       -       -       -       -        -85 

Mohammed          .......       .       -        97 

The  Miser  Outwitted       -.---..-106 
Falling  Leaves    .---.--.-126 
The  Dolly  Varden  Man  --------128 

Love's  Dying  Plaint    -------       -130 

My  Country  Beau  ---.-..-132 

Beautiful  Summer        ......--      134 

Departing  Friends  ---.-..--  136 
Be  Brave      .-.-...-.-138 
Spring      ..--..---..140 
Despair  Not         .-.-.-.--142 
Maidens  Deck  the  Soldiers'  Graves          .....  144 

Have  Charity       -.----.-.146 

A  Question  and  Answer          .--.--.  148 

(8) 


762368 


4  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Hope *     -       -       -       -     150 

There  is  Poetry  in  Autumn     .-.-.--  152 
Spring  Flowers    --.-•----      164 

The  Abode  of  the  Muses         -------  156 

The  Fenian  Exile's  Eesolve          ......      164 

To  Mrs.  Mary  Helm         -   .     -        -        -        -       -        -        -167 

To  Jas.  C.  C.  Holenshado,  Esq.,  of  College  Hill,  O.     -       -      169 
To  Annie  Hof  her  Gorious       ---.---  171 
To  Jennie  Crawford  Davis  -------      178 

To  Jennie  Eoots  Thompson     -------  176 

The  Magic  Gift _       ...      176 

IN    MEMORIAM. 

A.  P.  Newkirk,  Esq.  --...-.-181 
Miss  Amy  Gilchrist  --.-.-.-  187 
Miss  Mary  Loftus  -----...-  189 
Miss  Amanda  Scofield  -.--«,_  191 

Henry  the  Eighth    --..-----198 


i. 

MY  little  book  thou  art  complete, 

Dear  treasure  of  my  youthful  heart, 
With  soulful  thought  thou  art  replete, 

For  of  my  soul  thou  formest  a  part. 
Thy  pages  teem  with  fancies  wild, 

They  seem  to  blush,  to  smile,  to  weep ; 
Now  merry  as  a  romping  child, 

Now  grave  to  sadness  most  unmeet. 

II. 

«» 

Thou  dost  portray  my  every  mood : 

Sad,  thoughtless,  tender,  reckless,  glad, 
Bright  mirror  of  my  maidenhood. 

Oh  if  thy  pages  never  had 
Been  written  by  my  eager  pen, 

What  would  have  been  my  fate  to-day  ? 
Where  would  those  thoughts  vanish  then  ? 

Say,  Clio,  could  they  pass  away 

III. 

From  me  and  leave  no  trace  to  tell 

That  in  my  soul  they  had  their  birth  ? 
And  tell  me  now  that  here  they  dwell, 

Oh  will  they  linger  long  on  earth? 
No  answer,  proud  imperious  muse. 

Well,  since  of  mo  thou  seemest  tired, 
Go  back  to  Helicon,  infuse 

Thy  fires  to  others  less  inspired. 
(5) 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 
IV. 

,  And  now,  my  book,  my  fond  beloved, 

Forth  on  a  mission  thou  art  sent ; 
Go  to  the  -world  of  workers,  prove 

That  'tis  no  task  to  be  content. 
Go  tell  the  maiden  in  her  cot, 

Where  she  was  born  and  gently  bred, 
That  love  and  peace  alas  are  not 

Accorded  to  the  highly  wed. 

V. 

Go  tell  the  peasant  that  his  king, 

Despite  his  wealth,  his  crown  of  gold, 
Is  subject  to  deep  suffering, 

Victim  of  death  and  treachery  bold. 
Go  tell  the  youth  athirst  for  fame, 

Athirst  for  war's  red  honors  bright, 
Tb^it  when  he  wins  a  deathless  name. 

Death  may  his  earthly  GLOKIES  BLIGHT. 

VI. 

Go  out  into  the  critic's  world, 

"With  all  thy  faults,  thine  errors  too, 

Display  thy  flag,  so  proud  unfurled, 

Bearing  this  motto,  Ever  true  I  fain  would  be. 

But  if  I  err,  the  blame  lies  with  untutored  youth, 
Who  loves  romance — strange,  rich  and  rare — 

The  which  I  found  in  sober  truth. 

IV. 

Go  tell  the  world  that  naught  but  God, 

Can  guide  us  to  the  land  of  bliss, 
That  those  who  murmur  'neath  His  rod, 

Can  never  deem  their  spirits  His. 
Go  forth  and  bring  me  my  reward, 

Man's  blessings,  boundless  that  on  high, 
Will  wait  the  coming  of  the  bard, 

And  friendships  that  can  never  die. 


irtrress  10 


i. 

FATETTE  !  of  thee  my  muse  now  joyous  sings, 
Forth  in  thy  praise  her  voice  exultant  rings, 
Fresh  as  the  songs  of  silver-throated  birds, 
That  in  the  dawning  springtime  erstly  stirs 
The  dreamer's  soul  with  joy,  and  proud  inspires 
His  heart  with  music  for  his  magic  lyre. 
For,  Fayette,  long  hast  thou  well  guarded  me, 
Home  of  adoption  since  from  o'er  the  sea, 
An  infant  stranger  in  my  father's  arms 
I  came,  unconscious  of  life's  raging  storms, 
To  dwell  secure  within  thy  sheltering  breast, 
Adopted  daughter  of  the  smiling  West. 

II. 

Alone,  unknowu  and  friendless,  came  we  o'er 
The  briny  deep  to  bright  Columbia's  shore, 
Seeking  protection  'neath  the  banner's  wave, 
Unfurled  in  glory  o'er  monarchy's  grave. 
When  on  Britannia's  «hores  my  father  stood, 
Breathing  farewell  to  friends  loving  and  good, 
His  brave  heart  failed  him,  and  a  burning  tear 
Told  that  his  soul  was  stranger  now  to  cheer. 
Before  him  lay  the  ocean  deep  and  wide, 
(7) 


DEDICATION   ADDRESS 

Behind,  Britannia  in  her  power  and  pride, 
On  sea,  the  starry  flag  inviting  waved, 
On  land,  the  red  cross  drooped  o'er  many  a  grave 
Where  martyred  heroes  slain  in  youth's  first  prime 
In  silence  slumber,  sons  of  fame  sublime. 
Who,  for  thee,  Albion,  gave  their  glorious  lives, 
Nor  quailed  when  leaving  kindred,  home  and  wives. 
My  father  stood  o'erwhelmed  in  deeps  of  woe, 
Oh,  could  he  thus  from  all  he  cherished  go, 
Leave  parents,  brothers,  sisters,  kindred,  all? 
He  back  recoils,  then  hears  his  daughter  call ; 
'Tis  for  her  sake  he  clasped  her  to  his  breast 
And  turned  once  more  toward  the  smiling  West. 

III. 

0  England,  dark  as  are  thy  by-gone  years, 

1  love  thee  still ;  with  (Jowper  fall  my  tears 
That  1  mds  as  fair  as  thou  should  sullied  be, 
By  such  a  stain  as  cruel  monarchy. 

I  love  Columbia's  freedom,  all  her  laws 
Are  bound  together  in  that  freedom's  cause. 
Nor  kings,  nor  tyrants  e'er  o'er  her  can  rule, 
Of  independence  proud  unrivaled  school ; 
Yet,  England,  at  that  name  my  bosom  thrills, 
With  longings  wild  my  warm  young  heart  fills, 
To  breathe  again  my  far-off  natal  air, 
And  tread  across  her  meadows  green  and  fair ; 
To  catch  the  English  lark's  in-piring  song, 
And  all  her  ancient  ruins  roam  among; 
To  stand  where  Scott  the  Wizard  of  the  North, 
His  lays  entrancing  poured  in  rapture  forth ; 
Where  Byron,  Liberty's  adoring  son, 
Immortal  laurels  for  hU  genius  won  ; 


'"O   OLD   FAYETTE. 

Where  Milton  sang  heroic  tales  sublime, 
And  Cowpor  lauded  nature's  every  clime ; 
Where  Moore  soul-thrill  ng  melodies  composed, 
Each  one  a  gem  that  still  resplendent  glows. 
'Tis  said  that  Greece  is  poetry's  natal  home  ; 
If  so,  like  me  far  from  her  isle  i^he  roams, 
Nor  longer  basks  beneath  the  beauteous  skies, 
Where  proud  Olympus  frowned  with  rainbows  rise. 
O'er  England's  heath,  o'er  Scotia's  every  hill, 
And  Erin's  lawns,  the  Muses  range  at  will ; 
Forgot  by  them  the  far-off  lovely  isles, 
Where  nature  bland  assumes  her  brightest  smiles, 
And  now  where  kingdoms  three  unite  in  one, 
Is  heard  the  minstrel's  lone  inspiring  song. 

IV. 

Much  as  I  love  the  broad  and  smiling  West, 

The  star-lit  symbol  of  its  freedom  blest, 

Still,  still,  my  E.iglish  heart  doth  cling  to  thee, 

Adorin  :  Albion,  princess  of  the  sea. 

As  a  tender  mother  loves  an  erring  son, 

Whe  i  o'er  Him  crime  a  mantle  black  has  flung, 

Deserted  by  the  friends  that  were  his  b^ast, 

Which,  if  wealth  graced  him,  were  a  countless  host  j 

Now  they  condemn,  nor  mercy  wish  to  show, 

But  to  his  doom  doth  long  to  see  him  go  ; 

Despairing,  bowed  beneath  a  world's  deep  hate, 

That  mother  near  h"r  hapless  son  doth  w-iit. 

Her  breast  sus  ams  the  wretch's  drooping  head, 

And  when  afar  the  angel's  hope  has  fled, 

She  soothes  his  anguish,  nor  her  labor  fails, 

Just  as  she  soothed  once  his  infant  wails. 

Thus   Englan.l,  do  I  love  and  cling  to  thee, 


10  DEDICATION  ADDRESS 

E'en  while  I  weep  that  direful  monarchy 
Doth  crush  thy  ch'ldren  'neath  his  ir  .n  heel, 
Or  hush  their  cries  for  liberty  with  steel ; 
Stifling  their  prayers  in  life's  rich  surging  blood. 
Or  drives  them  homeless  o'er  the  raging  flood. 

V. 

Homeless?  Ah!  no,  beyond  Atlantic's  tide 

Proud  stands  Columbia,  heaven-born  freedom's  bride; 

With  open  arms  the  peerless  beauty  waits 

To  welcome  them  unto  her  lovely  States, 

And  clasps  them  to  her  heaving  bosom  warm 

To  shield  them  from  all  future  frowning  harm. 

VI. 

Fayette,  it  was  within  thy  shelt'ring  breast 

That  first  my  father  tasted  freedom  blest; 

"Within  thy  coc fines  bright  he  learned  with  awe 

To  love  the  goddess,  Liberty,  each  law 

Made  by  the  wise  men  of  the  Western  World, 

Who  erst  the  eagle's  flag  proudly  unfurled. 

There,  too,  his  English  daughter  learned  to  read 

Of  independence,  that  most  sacred  creed 

Which  lifts  man  God  like  high  o'er  earthly  fears, 

And  wafts  his  soul  toward  the  heavenly  spheres. 

'Twas  there  she  shook  the  bondage  from  her  soul, 

Of  bigotry,  that  millions  doth  control ; 

Dark  curse  of  nations,  cursed  by  kingly  rule, 

Of  treason  anarchy  the  ready  tool, 

And  superstition,  torturer  of  the  mind, 

'Neath  whose  iron  hands  low  dying  lie  confined 

The  be^t  impulses  of  heroic  hearts 

That  dread  naught  mortal,  yet  at  shadows  start. 


TO   OLD    FAYETTE.  II 

To  sing  her  lyrics  with  untrammeled  mind, 
And  leave  her  name  with  Fayette's  fame  behind, 
Is  the  fond  dream  of  her  aspiring  soul, 
In  fancy  free  to  rove  from  pole  to  pole. 

VII. 

Fayette,  thy  daughter  of  adoption  now, 

Will  wreath  her  blossoms  wild  around  thy  brow, 

Nor  fail  to  love  and  loyal  reverence  thee 

For  sixteen  years  the  dearest  home  to  me. 

Wast  not  thou  who  gave  her  all  she  boasts, 

True  friend-;,  a  home,  advantages  a  host; 

Within  thy  schools  her  youthful  hungry  mind 

Expanded,  showing  that  therein  confined 

The  gift  of  poesy  unnoticed  dwelt ; 

Nor  was  it  by  its  owner  ever  felt 

Till  thou,  wi.-e  friend  of  struggling  gonius,  told 

Me  that  in  time  the  bud  would  soft  unfold, 

Displaying  all  its  wo  idrous  be  mty  bright 

In  tints  as  varied,  rich  as  rainbow  light, 

That  fills  with  joy  the  dreamer.     Oit  I  cry 

For  the  rare  gift  of  heaven-born  poesy : 

0  God,  I  thauk  thee  from  my  inmost  soul. 

To  praise  ihse  then  shall  be  my  Muses'  role, 

And  from  the  prison  freed 

These  very  Muses  honored  John  S.  Ried. 

VIII. 

Another  friend  I  must  remember  now, 
One  who  ha    cheered  my  labor.      On  his  brow 
Is  graved  the  stamp  of  kindness,  deep  true 
The  zea!  that  marks  his  earnest  labor,  too. 
He  toil;-  untiring  for  untutored  youth, 


12  SWEliT    A8TREANERE. 

Instilling  in  e:ich  heart  a  love  of  truth; 
His  noble  works  above  shaJ  brightly  glow, 
His  crown  of  fame,  Professor  Rippitoe. 
More  friends  abundant,  had  I  space 
To  mention,  might  this  grateful  passage  grace; 
But  now,  suffice  it  for  me  here  to  say, 
That  none's  iorgotten  by  me  night  or  day. 
Where  fate  may  cast  them  evermore  along, 
With  me  they'll  share  my  tender  pulsing  heart, 
Nor  from  my  memory  shall  no  dear  friend  part. 

IX 

And  thou,  fair  cit<?,  my  dear  erstly  home, 
In  which  I  dwelt  when  o'er  the  sea  I  came, 
I  loving  dedicate  this  book  to  thee  ; 
Oh  may  it  with  thee  live  when  I'm  no  more, 
Yes,  when  I've  crossed  life's  mystical  shore. 
I  love  the  woods  and  vales  and  meadows  green, 
That  near  thy  confines  beautiful  ;ire  seen ; 
Each  silvery  stream,  each  verdant  sloping  hill, 
Hare  beauteous  zones  of  lovely  Connersville. 


i. 

WHAT  is  true  love  ?  is  it  a  thing 

That  man  can  at  his  pleasure  buy, 
Like  lands  or  goods  or  costly  ring 

That  oft  like  shadows  from  him  fly? 
Or  is't  perchance  a  fleeting  myth, 

A  fancy  empty  as  the  air, 
That  fans  the  dreamer's  cheek  as  with 

The  fragrant  breath  of  flowrets  rare? 

II. 

Nay,  'tis  a  passion  deep  and  true, 

Born  in  the  heart  that  knows  not  guile; 
A  passion  pure  as  virgin  dew 

That  gems  the  rosebud  like  the  smile 
Of  seraph  spirits  from  above, 

Which  fancy  paints  in  flowers  to  dwell. 
Eternal,  deathless  is  true  love, 

It  comes  but  once  I  know  full  well. 

III. 

And  if,  perchance,  the  cynic  smiles 

In  contempt  at  this  beau  ideal 
Theory,  held  of  human  love 
(13) 


14  SWEET    ASTREANERE. 

By  poets  that  can  never  feel 
Aught  but  the  promptings  of  the  soul, 

Which  make  or  mar  them,  they  obey. 
To  wear  the  mask  i~  not  the  role 

Of  poets  e'en  in  this  cold  day. 

IV. 

Then  let  him  list  to  this  the  tale 

Told  by  tradition,  of  the  fate 
Of  two  young  lovers,  dark  the  weal 

That  marks  a  woman  s  jealous  hate; 
And  while  he  lists  let  p'ty*s  tears 

Fall  gently  o'er  each  hallowed  grave, 
Where  long  hath  slept,  devoid  of  fears, 

Sweet  Astreanere  and  Glenwold  brave. 

V. 

In  Cornwall  dwelt  a  feudal  knight, 

The  proudest  lord  that  graced  the  reign 
Of  England's  virgin  mistress  bright, 

Elizabeth.     The  Jartest  stain 
That  sullies  her  strange,  grand  career, 

Forgetting  fair-haired  Essex'  fate, 
Is  this,  the  death  of  Astreanero, 

And  Glenwold,  her  brave-chosen  mate. 

VI. 

Oh  she  was  fair  and  she  was  young 

As  spirit  of  a  poet's  song, 
As  blue  and  melting  were  her  eyes, 

As  violets  reared  in  Paradise  ; 
And  'neaih  the  glory  of  her  hair, 

That  swept  like  vail  of  molten  gold 


SWEET   ASTREANERE.  15 

Over  her  shoulders  white  and  fair, 
As  bust  of  some  great  goddess  old, 

VII. 

There  smiled  a  face  of  beauty  bright, 

For  which  Venus  might  envy  own; 
And  on  her  brow  as  lilies  white, 

Diana's  star  in  splendor  shone ; 
While  round  her  lips  of  coral  hue 

There  played  a  thousand  witching  smiles ; 
And  in  her  voice,  sweet  as  the  coo 

Of  doves,  there  lurked  enchanting  wiles. 

VIII. 

In  her  fair  form,  as  graceful,  light  H 

As  fabled  sylph  or  young  gazelle, 
Were  seen  such  wondrous  charms  as  might 

In  houries  of  the  Orient  dwell. 
What  wonder  then  that  such  a  maid 

As  Montague's  flower,  should  honored  be 
By  love  of  knights  of  every  grade, 

Or  princes  from  beyond  the  sea. 

IX. 

Sweet  Astreanere,  the  heiress  sole 

Of  Montague's  towers,  knew  care  nor  woe, 
Till  from  the  Queen  of  Britain  came 

The  summons  for  Glenwold  to  go 
Afar  upon  the  stormy  main, 

To  battle  with  the  foreign  foe. 
Against  the  royal  power  of  Spain 

She  sent  her  knights  to  level  low. 


16  SWEET    ASTREANERE. 

X. 

The  pride  of  him  who  held  aloof 

From  her  religion  and  its  rites. 
She  chose  Glenwold  with  Essex  fair, 

And  Raleigh,  bravest  of  her  knights, 
To  fall  upon-  the  Spanish  fleet, 

Capture  the  treasure  galleys  great, 
That  they  might  at  her  royal  feet, 

With  reverence  lay  the  golden  freight. 

XI. 

But  was  this  thirst  for  power  and  wealth 

The  queen's  sole  passion  on  that  day, 
When  those  three  fearless  knights  she  sent 

To  forage  on  the  briny  sea  ? 
Ah!  no,  the  queen  ot  kingdoms  three, 

The  virgin  princess  bowed  to  love, 
On  Glenwold  she  her  heart  bestowed, 

To  keep  him  from  his  Cornish  dove. 

XII. 

To  separate  the  plighted  pair, 

And  hold  the  heart  in  stern  restraint, 
That  proudly  spurned  her  royal  care, 

Was  what  the  willful  lady  meant. 
And  when  Glenwold  the  call  received, 

That  doomed  him  from  his  pearl  to  roam, 
He  sought  sweet  Astreanere  one  eve 

Ere  parting  from  his  Cornish  home. 

XIII. 

It  was  the  hour  when  flaming  Sol 
No  longer  ruled  the  heavenly  sphere  j 


SWEET   ASTREANERE. 

And  Luna,  mistress  of  the  night, 
Shed  forth  her  silv'ry  luster  clear ; 

As  seated  on  her  gleaming  car, 
She  op'ed  her  wild,  nocturnal  race, 

Attended  by  a  million  stars, 

That  hung  like  lamps  of  gold  in  space, 

XIV. 

That  Astreanere,  the  Cornish  rose, 

Pride  of  her  haughty  father's  heart, 
Sought  out  the  bower  that  brightly  glowed 

With  floral  jewels.     Sad  to  part 
With  yoing  GHenwold,  the  noblest  knight 

That  ever  wore  the  avenging  blade  ; 
Wh  ch  swiftly  flashed  athwarth  the  light, 

A  foe  to  vanquish,  friend  to  save. 

XV. 

With  loving  heart  the  maiden  sought 

The  trysting  place  to  her  most  dear, 
And  as  she  sat  aneath  the  bower, 

Her  eyes  of  azure  shed  a  tear. 
This  meeting  was  to  be  their  last, 

For  months  Glenwold  would  rove  the  sea 
Alone,  within  her  father's  towers 

Sweet  Astreanere  would  mourning  be. 

XVI. 

Athwarth  the  star-bejeweled  sky 
The  maiden's  eyes  cerulean  roved, 

As  if,  perchance,  she  might  descry 

There  scribed  the  fate  of  her  beloved. 
2 


18  SWEET   ASTREANERE. 

The  bright  lake,  like  a  silver  sea, 

Shone  'neath  the  young  moon's  crescent  bea; 

While  near  and  far  on  hill  and  lea 
The  ghostly  shadows  wanly  gleamed. 

XVII. 

The  night-bird,  silent  by  his  mate, 

Forgot  to  trill  his  sweet  love-song  ; 
And  from  the  depths  of  lonesome  glade 

The  owl's  fell  hoot  was  borne  along. 
The  perfumed  breezes  fanned  the  cheek 

Of  Astreanere,  as  'neath  the  bower 
She  wailing  sat  'mid  blossoms  sweet, 

Toying  with  Cupid's  chosen  flower. 

XVIII. 

The  moments  fled:  a  quivering  sigh 

Went  fluttering  from  the  maiden's  heart, 
And  to  her  tender  love-lit  eyes 

The  tell-tale  tears  again  would  start. 
But  bark!  what  sound  the  stillness  breaks? 

'Tis  naught  but  warrior's  fearless  tread 
That  rings  along  the  stony  walk 

That  to  the  bower  of  trysting  led. 

XIX. 

Nearer  the  step  approaches,  then 
A  voice  deep,  rich  and  full  of  power 

Calls :  "Astreanere.  light  of  my  soul, 
Art  thou  within  thy  rose-clad  bovver?" 

With  fluttering  breath  and  blushing  cheek 
Sweet  Astreanere  softly  replies  : 


SWEET    ASTREANERE.  19 

"Aye,  Glenwold,  thine  own  love  is  here, 
Of  Montague's  heart  the  treasured  pride. 

XX. 

"  But  what  hath  caused  thy  coming  late, 

What  kept  thee  from  thy  dove  to-night  ? 
Surely  no  duty  how'er  great 

Could  tempt  thee  from  thy  trysting  plight." 
"Sweet  Astrcanere,"  Glenwold  replies, 

"  Thy  sire's  behest  must  I  obey  ; 
To-night  he  sought  me  out  to  learn 

The  hour  that  I  must  needs  away. 

XXI. 
"And  while  in  converse  I  confessed 

To  him  my  love  for  thee,  sweet  one, 
Besought  him  soon  to  make  us  blest, 

A  cloud  of  woe  he  cast  upon 
My  heart,  when  in  reply  he  spoke, 

With  fiery  glance  and  stormy  brow, 
'Boonar  than  see  my  daughter  wed, 

With  thee,  sir  knight,  I'd  lay  her  low. 

XXII. 

"  'With  this,  her  father's  aged  hand, 

Glenwold  of  Britain,  lowly  born, 
I'd  stretch  her  lifeless  on  the  sand, 

Fair  as  she  is  in  lite's  bright  morn. 
Cecil,  the  pride  of  England's  court, 

Prime  minister  of  England's  queen, 
Hath  asked  the  hand  of  Astreanere, 

Most  beauteous  maid  'er  by  him  seen. 


20  SWEET   ASTREANERE. 

XXIII. 

•' '  Elizabeth  smiles  on  the  suit 

Her  Majesty  to  Cejil  gave  ; 
A  dower  such  as  might  in  sooth 

Tempt  Plutus  from  his  treasure  cave. 
So,  Grlenwold,  think  no  more  to  wed 

With  Montague's  peerless  daughter  now  j 
For  fre  from  battle  thou'lt  return, 

A  ducal  crown  shall  gem  her  brow.' 

XXIV. 

''And  with  these  words  thy  father  left 

Me  to  my  fate.     Oh,  Astreanere  ! 
Mu-t  we  thus  part  of  hope  bereft, 

Oppressed  by  wretched,  taunting  fear?" 
He  paused,  in  silent  woe  he  gazed 

Upon  the  mystic  vault  of  night; 
With  black  despair  his  brain  was  crazed, 

Dark  loomed  the  future  in  his  sight. 

XXV. 

Those  holy  stars  by  lovers  prized, 

Hope,  love  and  faith,  by  clouds  were  riven ; 
And  in  its  glory  through  the  skies, 

The  blood-red  orb  of  war  was  driven, 
Astreanere  leaned  upon  his  breast, 

Weeping  in  hopeless,  speechless  woe  ; 
With  his  strong  love  she  had  been  blest, 

How  could  her  father  bid  him  go  ? 

XXVI. 

With  faltering  voice  at  length  she  spoke : 
"  Grlenwold,  my  sire's  decree  is  stern  ; 


SWEET   ASTREANERE.  21 

Yet  sooner  than  his  curse  invoke, 

To  do  his  will  I  now  must  learn. 
My  love  for  thee  can  never  die, 

Not  though  by  Hymen's  chains  I'm  bound ; 
Cecil  may  wed  with  Montague's  pride, 

With  coronet  gay  I  may  be  crowned, 

XXVII. 

"  Still,  Glenwold,  still  I  am  thine  own  ; 

My  heart,  my  soul's  best  love  is  given 
To  thee,  whatever  woe  may  come 

To  crush  me,  thou'rt  my  earth's  sole  heaven." 
She  ceased,  her  woman's  heart  was  full 

With  bitter  grief  to  further  speak, 
And  Grlenwold  with  perceptions  dulled 

Was  as  a  wailing  infant  weak. 

XXVIII. 

Neither  of  those  doomed  lovers  heard 

The  loud  approach  of  mail-clad  feet, 
Until  the  voice  of  Montague's  lord 

Destroyed  their  trance,  bitter  yet  sweet. 
The  lord  of  Montague,  stern  and  old, 

Upon  them  with  grim  anger  glanced ; 
Erect  stood  Glenwood,  firm  and  bold, 

As  to  the  rose-bower  he  advanced. 

XXIX. 

"  How  now,  young  Grlenwolcf,  would'st  thou  war 
Upon  thy  master?"  asked  the  lord; 

"  That  thou  hast  dared  to  enter  here ; 
If  so   draw  forth  thy  ready  sword, 

And  here,  with  none  but  Astreanere 


22 


SWEET   ASTREANERE. 

To  witness,  I'll  my  vengeance  wreak, 
And  teach  thee,  Montague's  lord,  to  fear. 

How  say'st  thou  now?   Ah!  why  not  speak?" 

XXX. 

Deep  scarlet  flushed  the  knight's  fair  face  ; 

Swift  from  its  steel  sheath  flashed  his  blade, 
Advancing  to  Montague  a  f  ace, 

In  clar  on  tones  he  proudly  said  : 
"An  hundred  henchmen  dost  thou  boast, 

Yet  will  I  war  with  thee  this  hour, 
And  all  thy  faithful  mail-clad  host, 

Come,  'gainst  me  lead  thy  vaunted  power. 

XXXI. 

"  To  breathe  farewell  to  Astreanere, 

I  sought  this  rose-clad  bower  of  love ; 
If  thou  would'st  fight  afar  from  here 

The  mettle  of  our  blades  we'll  prove. 
But  this  sweet  spot  is  far  too  pure 

For  men  to  sully  with  fell  strife  j 
But  out  on  yonder  level  moor 

I'll  teach  thee  that  my  blood  is  rife 

XXXII. 

"  To  battle  with  the  knight  that  dares 

To  brand  me  as  one  lowly  born, 
While  life  with  me  its  vigor  shares 

I'll  brook  from  n-me  insult  or  scorn." 
Thus  face  to  face  they  scowling  stood, 

The  lord  of  Montague  an'l  the  kn;ght, 
Who  ne'er  before  in  angry  mood 

Challenged  the  noble  forth  to  fight. 


SWEET   A8TREANERB.  23 

XXXIII. 
With  bosom  full  of  bitter  ire,  he 

Bade  Grlenwold  say  his  sad  farewell, 
And  turned  him  from  the  scorching  fire 

That  from  his  eyes  of  midnight  fell. 
Against  the  author  of  this  woe 

Montague's  proud  soul  rebellious  rose  ; 
Elizabeth  must  surely  know 

That  'gainst  her  Glenwold's  heart  was  closed. 

XXXIV. 

Lord  Montague  loved  the  noble  youth, 

Biorht  proud  was  he  when  first  he  learned 
That  Astreanere  possessed  the  heart 

For  which  a  queen  in  silence  yearned ; 
And  oft  he  dreamt  o±  Montague's  hall, 

With  Grlenwold  as  its  noble  lord, 
And  Astreanere  his  peerless  bride 

Surrounded  by  their  feudal  horde. 

XXXV. 

But  all  his  hopes  were  swept  away 

When  Britain's  quejn  beheld  the  knight; 
She  love  i  him  in  her  jealous  way, 

And  ha;ed  Astreanere  the  bright. 
Far  from  the  maiden's  side  to  roam 

She  doomed  Glenwold  ;  relentless  ire 
Consumed  her  bosom  when  in  gloom 

He  sought  from  service  to  retire. 

XXXVI. 

With  cruel  words  the  maid  she  bade 
To  wed  with  Cecil  the  deformed, 


24  SWEET    ASTREANERE. 

Or  on  the  block  lay  low  her  head, 

All  pleadings  from  Montague  were  scorned. 

To  make  Glenwold  his  bitter  foe, 
To  break  his  darling's  h  art  for  aye, 

Montague  was  forced,  grim,  deathless  woe 
Seemed  on  his  wretched  soul  to  Le. 

XXXVII. 

Sweet  Astreanere  half  fainting  clung 

To  Grlenwold;  bitterest  anguish  tore 
Her  heart;  while  daggers  of  deep  woe 

Were  pierced  unto  the  inmost  core ; 
While  he,  o'erwhelmed  in  black  despair, 

Strove,  madly  strove,  to  rend  h.m  free 
From  those  fair  arms  that  held  him  there. 

Both  stood  in  speechless  misery. 

XXXVIII. 

At  length  in  tones  broken  and  low, 

He  spoke  that  last,  that  dread  farewell  j 
From  her  fond  clasp  his  iorm  he  tore, 

Leaving  her  helpless  where  she  fell. 
Afar  he  fled ;  none  but  the  strange, 

Lone  spirits,  wandering  through  the  night, 
Knew  of  the  tempest  \\ild  that  raged 

Within  his  breast  during  that  flight. 

XXXIX. 

From  all  that  to  his  soul  was  dear,     . 

While  in  her  bower  of  beauty  bright, 
Astreanere  mourned  with  sigh  and  tear, 

The  absence  of  her  lover-krrght. 
And  thus  those  two  fond,  loving  hearts, 


SWEET    ASTREANERE.  25 

Ne'er  more  on  earth,  in  life  to  meet, 
Parted  upon  that  summer  eve, 

Glenwold,  and  Astreanere  the  sweet. 

XL. 

'Twas  on  the  last  night  of  the  year, 

That  Montague's  peerless  heiress  bright, 
Was  doomed  to  wed  the  hunchback  peer, 

Of  England's  court  the  shining  light. 
Cecil,  the  cunning  statesman,  clad 

In  robes  bedecked  with  jewels  rare ; 
Exulting  in  the  thought  and  glad 

That  his  would  be  this  treasure  fair. 

XLI. 

Impatient  waited  for  the  hour 

Of  midnight,  that  would  fix  the  fate 
Of  Montague's  tender  drooping  flower. 

With  joyous  heart,  and  soul  elate, 
He  restless  passed  from  place  to  place ; 

Plotting  against  the  favorite  three 
That  now  found  favor  in  the  grace 

Of  his  proud  mistress,  recklessly. 

XLII. 

Essex,  the  fair,  in  secret  wooed 

And  won  a  bride ;  young  Raleigh,  wild, 
A  maid  of  honor  gently  sued  ; 

And  Glenwold  firm,  yet  nobly  mild, 
Remained  as  true  to  Astreanere. 

As  ever  knight  to  lady  kept, 
Despite  temptations  that  bestrewed 

The  path  o'er  which  his  life  was  swept. 


26  SWEET   ASTREANERE. 

XLIII. 

Their  ruin  Cecil  fiercely  craved, 

Death  to  the  gallant  trio  then 
Was  e'er  his  watchword ;  oft  he  raved 

In  fury  for  the  blood  of  men, 
Who  each  believed  himself  the  friend 

Of  Cecil.     Glenwold,  wronged  young  knight, 
Dreamt  not  that  he  could  e'n  pretend 

Affections  false,  as  mirage  bright 

XLIV. 

That  flashes  fore  the  fevered  eyes 

Of  traveler  on  the  sun-scorched  plain, 
When  with  fierce  thirst  he  almost  dies, 

And  cruel  heat  boils  every  vein ; 
When  naught  but  burning  wastes  of  sand 

Extend  before  his  aching  sight, 
Until  the  tortured  brain  expands, 

And  reason  totters  from  her  height. 

XLV. 
Then  far  beyond  the  sandy  sea, 

In  all  its  rural  beauty  rare  ; 
Where  silver  streams  are  flowing  free, 

And  wild  birds  fill  the  perfumed  air 
With  melodies  rich,  wildly  sweet, 

An  emerald  grove  his  vision  greets. 
He  struggles  bravely  on,  and  soon 

Beaches  the  spot  to  find  it  gone. 

XLVI. 

So  when  with  woe  deeply  oppressed, 
The  knight  sought  out  the  false  one, 


SWEET   ASTREANERE.  27 

Believing  all  that  he  professed, 

Nor  deemed  him  liable  to  wrong 
A  friend,  he  asktd  the  peer  to  yield 

Back  Astreanere,  the  Cornish  rose. 
Cecil  declared  'twas  not  his  heart, 

But  hi.<  proud  queen  that  for  him  chose. 

XLVIL 

Thus  while  upon  the  stormy  main, 

Fighting  for  their  country  brave; 
Scattering  wild  fear  through  haughty  Spain, 

Their  traitor  friend  and  titled  slave, 
Against  them  roused  the  deadly  ire 

Of  her  who  wooed  them  all  by  turns ; 
Within  her  heart  kindled  the  fire 

That  o'er  love's  ashes  fiercely  burns. 

» 

XLVIII. 

And  on  this  last  night  of  the  year, 

When  mirthful  guests  throng  Montague's  hall, 
The  hapless  knights  in  durance  drear 

Were  lodged      Unheeded  was  their  call 
For  freedom.     Cecil  had  his  way  ; 

This  night  would  make  his  joy-cup  full ; 
All  this  strangely  grand  display 

Was  made  the  bride's  sad  fears  to  lull. 

XLIX. 

The  rose  of  Cornwall  lonely  sate, 

Surrounded  by  her  ladies  gay, 
Within  her  flower-dressed  hall  of  state, 

Watching  the  clouds  of  leaden-gray, 
That  through  the  bleak  and  wintry  sky 


28  SWEET    ASTREANERE. 

Flew  on  before  the  stormy  blast, 
She  silent  prayed  that  she  might  die, 
Though  ol  her  race  she  was  the  last. 

L. 

Silent  and  hopelessly  she  waits, 

Like  one  that's  doomed  erelong  to  die; 

With  all  her  wealth  and  beauty  great, 
She  fain  would  from  her  sorrows  fly. 

No  smile  illumes  her  beauteous  face ; 

Mournfully  she  views  the  scene 
Of  revelry  that's  taking  place, 

And  gloom  o'erclouds  her  brow  serene. 

LI. 

At  length  the  fatal  hour  arrives, 

Lord  Cecil  seeks  Montague's  pride, 
And  leads  her  from  her  virgin  bower; 

The  richest,  yet  most  wretched  bride, 
That  ever  spoke  the  formal  vows 

Which  bind  two  lives  for  weal  or  woe ; 
All  helpless  to  grim  fate  she  bows, 

Nor  dreams  to  say  her  tyrants  "no." 

LII. 

Within  a  chapel  grim  and  hoar, 

Whose  rugged  walls  rich  ivy  vails, 
Assembled  round  the  altar,  o'er 

Which  an  hundred  tapers'  flames 
Low  droops  the  flower  of  Montague's  hall ; 

Lord  Cecil  holds  her  trembling  hand, 
Dead  silence  reigns  like  fates   dark  pall, 

Over  the  guests  that  silent  stand. 


SWEET   ASTREANERE.  29 

LIII. 

The  priest  with  grave  and  solemn  face, 

Exhorts  the  twain  to  love  and  trust, 
To  live  in  holy,  heavenly  peace, 

Each  to  the  other  be  e'er  just; 
And  then  he  speaks  to  Astreanere  : 

"Lady  of  Montague,  watch  and  pray, 
Shake  from  thy  soul  all  doubting  fear, 

Thy  queen's  behest  with  love  obey. 

LIV. 

"Smile  on  thy  lord,  nor  tremble  more, 

Nor  grieve  that  thou  shouldst  wedded  be 
With  one  who  from  thy  natal  shore 

Hath  swept  the  stain  of  popery." 
He  paused,  the  hush  still,  death-like  reigns, 

Sweet  Astreanere  essays  to  speak, 
But  mute  her  coral  lips  remains, 

And  lower  droops  the  maiden  meek. 

LV. 

As  lamb  in  clutch  of  famished  wolf, 

Without  a  hope  of  life  it  lies, 
In  its  OWQ  gore  to  be  engulfed, 

Silent,  complainingless,  it  dies. 
Thus  Montague's  rare  and  tender  flower, 

Resigned  herself  up  to  her  fate, 
Dreaming  of  that  sweet  rose-clad  bower 

Where  Grlenwold  told  her  oft  elate, 

LVI. 

How  much  he  loved  his  own  sweet  rose, 
Her,  of  his  soul,  unrivaled  queen; 


30  SWEET   ASTREANERE. 

And  then  with  dread  her  young  heart  froze, 
As  gazed  she  on  this  weird  scene; 

Herself  in  robes  of  ghostly  white, 
The  guests  with  faces  all  agloom, 

The  uncertain,  pale  and  nickering  lights 
That  'lume  the  chapel  like  a  tomb. 

LVII. 

The  service  slowly  is  begun ; 

Cecil  responds  in  clarion  tones, 
But  Astreanere  with  silent  tongue, 

All  helpless  in  hor  anguish  moans. 
The  frowning  bridegroom  sees  the  change 

As  to  the  marble  floor  she  sinks, 
And  knows  his  treasure's  life  is  o'er, 

For  death  now  at  life's  fountain  drinks. 

LVIII. 

Slow  from  her  lips  a  crimson  tide, 

Her  life's  rich  blood  is  welling  now, 
And  Cecil  clasps  Irs  fainting  bride, 

No  longer  frowning  is  his  brow. 
But  Montague's  lord,  o'erwhelmed  in  woe, 

With  eye  of  fierce,  despairing  fire, 
Seizes  his  child,  in  accents  low 

He  prays  that  she  may  not  expire. 

LIX. 

In  vain,  the  prayers  were  offered  late, 
Fainter  and  fainter  came  her  breath, 

For  she  in  life's  bright  morning  hour, 
Became  the  bride  of  cruel  death. 

Hushing  the  pulsing  of  their  hearts, 


SWEET   ASTREANERE.  31 

In  sile  it  awe  the  guests  await 
The  closing  of  this  bridal  scetie, 
To  breathe,  all  seemed  to  hesitate. 

LX. 

Sweet  Astreanere,  with  loving  eyes, 

Gazed  on  her  father's  gloom-wrapt  face, 
And  pointing  to  the  stormy  skies, 

Smiled  brightly,  as  if  heavenly  grace 
Aided  the  maiden  thus  to  part 

With  life  and  all  its  luring  joys. 
No  grief  disturbs  her  breaking  heart; 

Montague's  rare  flower  all  hopeful  DIES. 

LXI. 

No  sound  disturbs  the  awful  hush 

Which  deatii  hath  cast  upon  the  group 
Of  silent  guests  that  gath  red  near, 

To  gaze  upon  the  blossom  crushed 
By  England's  heartless,  tyrant  queen. 

To  gratify  a  flee:ing  whim; 
The  love  of  Grlenwold,  fresh  and  green, 

Was  what  the  virgin  sought  to  win. 

LXII. 

The  hour  of  midnight  saw  the  close 

Of  Astreanere's  short,  hapless  life; 
And  from  the  floor  Lord  Montague  rose, 

Wrestling  with  all  his  giant  might       - 
With  fierce  emotions  that  consumed 

His  heart.     Lord  Cecil  slowly  turns 
And  meets  the  noble's  blazing  eyes 

That  to  his  soul  of  treachery  burns. 


32  SWEET    ASTREANERK. 

LXIII. 
Upon  their  swords  their  hands  are  placed, 

Black  hatred  rages  in  each  breast; 
When  lo !  a  sound  the  stillness  breaks, 

A  mail-clad  knight  with  haste  hard  pressed, 
Strides  through  the  chapel's  open  door, 

Up  to  the  altar  with  firm  step, 
And  then  Montague  he  bows  before  ; 

Over  the  scene  his  dark  eyes  swept. 

LXIV. 

He  lifts  his  visor  from  his  face, 

What  do  the  startled  peers  behold? 
The  features  fair,  the  form  of  grace, 

That  marks  the  knight  Glenwold,  the  bold. 
"Lord  Montague,"  spoke  the  noble  knight, 

"  To  bid  adieu  to  Astreanere, 
Of  Cornwall  rare  and  beauteous  light, 

This  gloom-wrapt  hour  I  now  am  here: 

LXV. 

"Afar  beyond  the  weltering  wave, 

Where  sleeps  the  golden  god  of  day, 
I  go  with  Raleigh  true  and  brave, 

To  find  a  home  where  I  may  stay ; 
Untroubled  by  the  strife  for  power, 

Where  kings  and  statesmen  never  rule; 
But  where  during  each  sunny  hour 

I'll  learn  in  nature's  chosen  school 

LXVI. 

To  do  the  will  of  Him  above. 

Now  lead  me  to  thy  daughter  fair; 


SWEET   ASTREANERE.  33 

For  her  all  deathless  is  my  love. 

Ah !  holy  angels  !  what  is  there  ?  " 
Beside  the  prostrate  form  he  fell ; 

The  icy  hands  he  madly  clasped, 
A  groan  of  death-like  anguish  welled 

Up  from  his  faithful  heart  at  last. 

LXVII. 

"My  life,  my  love,  my  martyred  one, 

Before  me  to  high  heaven  thou'rt  flown, 
But  soon  I'll  follow  where  thou'rt  gone  ; 

Thou  shalt  not  dwell  above  alone." 
With  hand  as  swift  as  lightning  flash 

He  drew  his  tried  and  trusty  blade ; 
One  glance  of  hatred  round  he  cast, 

Then  low  before  them  he  was  laid. 

LXVIII. 

The  life-blood  from  his  faithful  breast 

Mingled  with  that  of  Astreanere, 
Whose  marble  hands  he  fondly  pressed  ; 

He  die  1  without  a  sigh  of  fear. 
And  thus  perished  the  fated  two, 

Who  loved  while  life  to  them  was  given ; 
Their  hearts  through  joy  and  woe  were  true, 

And  pure  as  stars  that  gem  the  heaven. 

LXIX. 

When  thwart  the  dusky  brow  of  night, 
The  queen  of  space  doth  slowly  sail, 

"Wearing  her  crown  of  beauty  bright. 
While  diamonds  gem  the  purple  vail 


34  SWEET    ASTREANERE. 

That  shrouds  her  form,  peerlessly  fair, 
From  mortal  eyes,  that  as  her  peer, 

As  proudly  pure,  as  strangely  rare, 
Were  Glen  wo  id  and  sweet  Astreanere. 

LXX. 

Years,  years  have  fled  and  still  the  tale 

By  Cornish  peasants  oft  is  told, 
Who  point  with  visage  awed  and  pale, 

To  a  lone  graveyard,  grim  and  old, 
Wherein  the  knight  and  Astreanere 

Were  by  the  weeping  Montague  laid, 
To  rest  in  peace,  devoid  of  fear, 

Their  graves  were  by  his  proud  hands  made. 

LXXI. 

Toward  the  sinking  of  the  sun, 

Young  Glenwold's  couch  of  gloom  was  placed, 
And  to  the  rising  of  the  moon, 

Sweet  Astreanere's  lone  palace  faced; 
But  e'en  in  death  they  would  not  part; 

Up  from  each  mound  there  swiftly  sprung 
An  ash- tree,  growing  from  the  heart, 

Erelong  their  branches  closely  clung. 

LXXII. 

Strange,  strange,  they  seem  with  arms  twined, 

Leaning  across  that  gloomy  space, 
Each  year  they  grow  in  strength  and  pride, 

And  closer  in  that  fond  embrace  ; 
While  on  each  eve  of  the  New  Year, 

Montague's  old  halls  doth  blaze  with  light; 
And  when  the  midnight  hour  is  near, 

A  spectral  train  hovers  in  sight. 


SWEET    ASTREANERE.  35 

LXXIII. 

There  dames  of  high  and  noble  state, 

With  hawks  and  gallants  glide  along, 
There  with  his  bride,  Cecil  elate, 

Leads  on  the  weird,  ghostly  throng. 
The  ruined  chapel,  grim  and  hoar, 

As  in  the  feudal  days  agone, 
Reviews  the  scene  of  woe  once  more 

In  all  its  horror,  and  anon 

LXXIV. 

The  death-moan  of  the  hapless  bride 

Greets  the  brave  watcher's  startled  ear.- 
Then  Glenwold  falls  the  maid  beside, 

And  then  the  ghosts  all  disappear ; 
Rending  the  midnight  with  a  wail 

That  thrills  the  strongest  heart  with  fear, 
Thus  ends  the  strangely  mournful  tale 

Of  Glenwold  and  sweet  Astreanere. 


iiLe  0f  fSrsnirgtohie. 


i. 

MORN  rises  from  the  brow  of  night, 
In  mystic  radiance  warm  and  bright; 
And  Sol,  the  royal  god  of  day, 
Bemounts  his  car  in  proud  array. 

Along  the  eastern  horizon, 
Soft  steals  a  flush  of  rosy  morn  ; 

And  kissing,  is  the  golden  sun, 
The  dews  from  leaflet,  flower  and  thorn. 

II. 
Up  from  the  valleys  floats  the  mist, 

Borne  on  the  gentle  zephyr's  wing, 
In  fleecy  clouds  it  mounts  to  heaven, 

As  if  of  life  and  love  a  thing. 
And  as  it  passes  from  our  view, 

Ah  !  what  a  picture  we  behold; 
A  vale  that's  rich  in  flowers  and  fruits, 

Whose  wealth  and  beauty  ne'er  was  told. 

III. 

There,  clad  in  nature's  green  attire, 

The  giant  oaks  uprise  so  grand, 
And  flashing  'neath  Aurora's  fire 
(36) 


THE    BATTLE   OP   BRANDYWINE.  37 

The  Brandy  wine  flows  through  the  land. 
All,  all  is  peace  and  calmness  now  ; 

No  sound  disturbs  the  hush  of  morn, 
Save  cooing  of  the  turtle-dove, 

Or  clarion  of  the  hunter's  horn. 

IV. 

Bright,  bright  the  scene  that  greets  the  eye, 
For  nature,  rich  in  poesy, 
Hath  lavished  on  this  beauteous  vale 
Her  rarest  treasures,  from  the  gale 
That  fain  would  sweep  athwart  its  breast, 
And  from  its  bosom  rudely  wrest 
The  princely  trees  that  gem  tho  mead, 
Like  sentries  placed  the  foe  to  heed, 

V. 

And  proudly  stand  erect.     Their  brows 
But  to  the  passing  whirlwind  bows, 
(As  soldiers  e'er  their  chief  salutes,) 
But  all  its  strength  to  crush  refutes ; 
Thus  e'er  with  kingly  heads  on  high, 
They  mu'ely  point  toward  the  sky, 
To  which,  from  floral  censers,  rises 
Tho  morn's  sweet  incense.     Swiftly  flies 

VI. 

The  lark  rejoicing  on  her  way,  f 

Chanting  her  trancing,  matin  lay, 
Pourii  g  to  Him  that  reigns  above, 
Forth  all  her  thrilling  songs  of  love. 
The  h  11s  of  rarest  emera  d  green, 
E'er  guards  this  beauteous  vale  serene  j 


38  THE   BATTLE   OF   BRANDYWINE. 

Nor  cloud  of  woe,  nor  shade  forlorn 
E'er  gl"omed  its  breast  till  this  fair  morn. 

VII. 

As  higher  rides  the  glorious  sun, 

Like  banner  of  rare  brightness,  flung 

Far  o'er  the  velvet,  sloping  lawns 

That  flash  with  dew  gems.     Where  the  fawns 

Aneath  the  young  moon's  silver  ray, 

Jo  n  zephyrs  light  and  fairies  in  play. 

Mark  well  yon  somber,  deep,  green  wood, 

Where  myriad  forms  seem  robed  in  blood. 

VIII. 

Where,  casting  back  each  golden  beam, 
Ten  thousand  lances  brightly  gleam ; 
Now  let  your  wandering  glances  stray 
Toward  the  dawning  of  the  day, 
And  view  the  hills  whose  wild,  rich  blooms 
Exhale  a  thousand  rare  perfumes, 
And  scan  the  blue-robed  columns  long, 
That  round  yon  snowy  tent  now  throng. 

IX. 

Mark  well  the  arms  these  warriors  bear, 
Then  ask  amazed,  "Now  what  is  there?" 
I'll  answer.     'Tis  the  Union  bands 
Of  Columbia's  sons,  and  in  their  hands 
Their  tried  and  trusty  weapons  are, 
Which  soon  w  11  gleam  'mid  sh  ut  of  war ; 
While  those  deep  lurking  in  the  wood, 
Bedressed  in  garb  the  hue  of  blood, 


THE   BATTLE   OF   BRANDYWINE.  39 

Are  Britain's  reckless,  hireling  hordes; 
FQT  pelf,  not  freedom,  fla  h  their  swords. 

X. 

And  on  this  calm  and  beauteous  morn, 
Instead  of  clang  of  huntsman's  horn, 
Or  coo  of  gen-tie  turtle-dove, 
Or  e'en  the  songs  of  deathless  love, 
Breathed  hy  nature's  choristers  gay, 
In  forest  green,  on  mountain  gray, 
The  hills  and  dells  w  11  echo  far 
The  fearful  din  of  murderous  war. 

XL 

0  Muse,  heroic  Mars  .divine, 
Minerva,  queen  of  wars  suMime, 
Great  Jove,  dread  thunderer  of  the  world, 
Proud  Perseus,  who  erstly  hurled 
The  Gorgon  monster  from  its  power, 
And  H<  rcules,  strength  is  thy  dower, 
Impart  thou  with  the  immortal  four  : 
Strength,  eloquence,  poesy,  lore, 

XII. 

That  I  in  numbers  fiery  bold, 
May  paint  those  scenes,  but  not  in  gold. 
Dark  scenes  of  death's  destruction  dire, 
Of  reeking  swords,  of  scorching  fire. 
Of  battle  shouts,  of  anguished  moans, 
Of  mad  despair,  of  frenzied  groans, 
Of  powerless  wrath,  of  hope  divine, 
That  marks  the  day  of  Brandywine. 


40  THE   BATTLE   OF   BRANDYWINE. 

XIII. 

No  cloud  bedims  the  sky  of  blue, 
No  breath  disturbs  the  azure  hue, 
Cool  bosom  of  the  limpid  lake, 
To  which  the  coy  deer  comes  to  slake 
Its  thirst.     There,  on  the  mossy  brink, 
The  grac.  ful  creature  stoops  to  drink; 
When  lo  !  from  out  the  forest  shade, 
Deep  rolls  the  thunder  down  the  glade. 

XIV. 

With  bound  as  swift  as  fabled  fawns, 
The  antler  light  flies  o'er  the  lawns 
That  'twixt  its  covert  intervenes  ; 
But  ere  its  shelter  safe  it  giins, 
A  leaden  ball  telays  it  low, 
And  on  the  turf  its  blood  doth  flow, 
The  first  corse  of  the  battle  day, 
Stiff,  stiff  and  gory  there  doth  lay. 

XV. 

And  high  above  the  cannon's  roar, 
And  warring  hosts  on  either  shore, 
Soari  g  up  to  the  eternal  skies, 
The  clarion  tones  triumphant  r'se, 
''Remember  Paoli,"  hear  that  shout 
Borne  on  the  air  in  thunder  note, 
As  onward  from  the  heart  of  Penn, 
Cheering  his  troops  sweeps  General  Wayne. 

XVI. 

Mad  Anthony  is  now  let  loose; 
Britons  look  well  unto  your  arms, 


THE   BATTLE   OP   BRANDYWINE.  41 

Lest  lie  should  pierce  your  gaudy  troop, 
And  fill  your  ranks  with  dire  alarms. 
"On,  bruders  on,"  hear  that  deep  yell, 
For  Britons  it  is  their  death-knell ; 
Three  hundred  braves  with  each  a  soul, 
Fierce  as  his  own  follows  the  Pole. 

XVII. 

Next,  with  their  partisans  proudly  free, 
Come  General  Greene,  heroic  Lee, 
And  Waldermear,  in  whose  dark  face, 
Red  burns  the  blood  of  the  Indian  race. 
'Mom  the  hills  of  Virginia,  an  Indian  maid 
Was  by  a  British  noble  betrayed; 
And  now  to  avenge  the  embittering  wrong, 
'Gainst  the  Saxons  he  battles  defiant  and  strong. 

XVIII. 

But  who  is  he  whose  eagle  eye, 
Each  change  and  movement  doth  descry, 
With  iorm  maj  stic,  royal  mien, 
That  e'en  in  kings  is  seldom  seen  ? 
How  proud  he  sits  his  iron  gray, 
And  views  the  soldiers'  grand  array ; 
With  heav  ng  breast  and  kindling  eye, 
He  marks  the  foemen  as  they  fly 

XIX. 

Before  the  charge  of  freemen  born, 
The  earth  with  nations  to  adorn. 
But  hush  !  his  voice  loud,  startling  rings  : 
"  Followers,  friends  of  freedom's  laws, 
Now  battling  in  that  freedom's  cause, 


42  THE   BATTLE   OP    BRANDYWINE. 

Who  in  our  midst  her  altars  placed  ; 
Those  altars  with  rich  garlands  graced, 
Consisting  of  the  noblest  minds, 
Impulses'  deeds,  blossoms  divine, 
That  round  our  hearts  fondly  entwine. 


"Before  you  shines,  though  from  afar, 
Sweet  Independence,  glorious  star, 
Whose  lustrous,  strangely  luring  ray, 
Doth  guide  you  on  to  freedom's  day. 
Be  brave,  nor  falter  in  this  hour, 
In  right,  not  might,  rests  all  the  power." 
He  pauses,  rings  an  echoing  cheer, 
Each  heart  is  stranger  to  dark  fear. 

XXI. 

Loud  roars  the  thunders  of  grim  death  ; 

Bestrewn  with  corses  is  the  heath; 

The  scene's  obscured  from  watching  eyes, 

By  sulphurous  smoke  that  dense  doth  rise, 

And  hovers  like  a  funereal  pall 

O'er  friend  and  foe,  all,  all 

Is  wrapped  in  deep  Plutonian  gloom, 

Changed  into  somber  burial  tomb 

XXII. 

Is  that  fair  vale  which  shone  at  morn 
In  nature's  brightest  smiling  form, 
No  longer  dancing  on  its  way, 
Or  pausing  with  the  breeze  to  play, 
But  flowing  on  with  sluggish  pace, 
While  corses  grim  its  breast  deface  ; 


THE   BATTLE   OF   BRANDYWINE.  43 

Torn  from  its  banks  each  clinging  vine, 
Slow  creeps  the  blood-stained  Brandywine. 

XXIII. 

Amid  the  tried  and  trusty  few, 

Who  for  Columbia  proudly  drew 

Their  blades  of  firm  unbending  steel, 

And  taught  the  motherland  to  feel 

That  earth  gives  birth  to  heroes  yet ; 

Fought  freedom's  friend,  young  Lafayette. 

His  boyish  face  with  hero  fire 

Blazed ;  his  trumpet  voice  served  to  inspire 

XXIV. 

With  courage  new  the  fainting  bands. 

Brief,  eloquent  are  his  commands : 

"  Look,  brothers,  mark  the  fiendish  hordes, 

'Gainst  whom  this  day  ye've  drawn  your  swords ; 

The  red-coat  demons  ne'er  can  know 

Aught  but  the  promptings  from  b?low; 

Fight  for  your  country,  give  your  lives 

To  shield  fond  mothers,  babes  and  wives. 

XXV. 

"  Their  honor  to  your  hearts  is  dear, 
Then  faint  not  while  one  foe  is  near." 
Thus  spake  the  son  of  happy  France, 
'Gainst  countless  foes  he  doth  advance  ; 
When  lo !  from  death-bestrewing  balls, 
A  fr.igment  on  his  shoulder  falls, 
Bleeding,  hall'  dead,  'neath  murderous  fire, 
Slow  from  the  field  he  doth  retire. 


44  THE   BATTLE   OF   BRANDYWINE. 

XXVI. 

Now  who  is  he  on  night  black  steed, 
With  eye  of  fire  and  robes  of  snow, 
That  now  are  stiff  and  stained  with  gore  ? 
Ah !  who  can  deal  such  fearful  blows  ? 
'Tis  Pulaski,  he  whose  iron  baud 
Hath  battled  bravely  for  our  land; 
A  parting  blessing  now  he  strews 
Amid  the  hireling  Hessian  crews. 

XXVII. 

And  while  with  rage  his  dark  eyes  burn, 
Aside  his  head  he  chanced  to  turn, 
And  as  he  did,  a  sight  that  froze 
The  blood  that  in  his  proud  veins  glows, 
His  startled  vision-sight  grimly  greets ;; 
The  foemen  now  our  ranks  defeat. 
And  on  the  brow  of  an  emerald  hill, 
Adown  which  courses  a  silver  rill, 

XXVIII. 

In  whose  crystal  tides  so  softly  laves 
The  gleaming  lilies  that  toy  with  the  wayea, 
Where  the  speckled  trout  all  freely  plays  j 
On  whose  mossy  banks  the  sparrow's  lays 
Are  heard  at  the  dawning  day, 
When  Aurora's  light  dispels  the  gray, 
The  gloomsome  mantle  of  dreary  night, 
And  fills  all  the  earth  with  her  radiance  bright, 

XXIX. 

Close  circled  by  three  hundred  foes, 
The  form  of  Washington  proud  uprose 
There  firmly  sitting  his  iron  gray, 
He  keens  the  furious  host  at  bay, 


THE   BATTLE   OP   BRANDYWINE.  45 

Nor  chief  nor  private  will  dare  approach 
The  prize,  nor  will  he  to  them  e'en  vouch 
An  answer  to  their  stern  commands, 
And  smiles  in  scorn  on  their  waving  brands. 

XXX. 

"  Surrender,  if  life  you  now  would  save  ! " 

Still  Washington  smiles  (he  fears  not  the  grave) 

Nor  vouches  one  word  to  them  in  reply 

Save  by  the  flash  of  his  eagle  eye. 

At  length,  so  sure  of  their  noble  prize, 

With  a  shout  that  echoed  up  to  the  skies, 

The  Britons  press  round  him,  loud  their  cheers, 

While  a  golden-haired  captain,  so  young  in  years, 

XXXI. 

That  Washington's  heart  for  the  brave  boy  bled, 
So  brave  that  the  charge  on  the.r  prize  he  led  ; 
An  answering  shout  from  his  foes  he  hears, 
And  Washington  failing  to  mark  his  men's  cheers, 
Grown  desperate  now,  at  the  foremost  he  fires, 
And  the  golden-haired  captain  slowly  expires. 
Again  his  pistol  sharply  speaks, 
Another  young  Briton  in  his  life-blood  reeks. 

XXXII. 

This  was  the  scene  that  greeted  the  eye 
Of  the  foreign  young  hero,  brave  Pu'aski. 
A  moment  and  then  his  iron  band 
Flies  thundering  over  the  gory-stained  land  ; 
Three  hundred  swords  then  g*eam  in  air, 
Three  hundred  shrieks  of  death's  despair, 
And  Washington  ag  un  is  free, 
Clasping  the  hands  of  PULASKI. 


I. 

'NEATH  the  beeches'  somber  shadows, 

Through  whose  branches  softly  gleamed 
Luna's  ,  aly,  silver  luster, 

On  her  snowy  brow  serene ; 
Waited  gentle  Lelah  Graypon, 

For  he  told  her  meet  him  here, 
On  the  green  and  mossy  borders 

Of  the  brooklet  singing  near. 

II. 

Violets'  azure  in  her  tresses 

Softly  bloomed,  an  '  on  her  breast 
Gleamed  sweet,  fragrant  water  lilies, 

For  he  sa  d,  "  I  love  them  best." 
En  her  eyes  of  b!ue-gniy  softness, 

Burned  a  strung 'ly  lustrous  fire; 
For  the  tones  of  handsome  Robert, 

Did  her  heart  with  love  inspire. 

III. 

Gently  pi  aye  1  the  perfumed  zephyrs, 
With  the  wild  wood  blossoms  rare; 
And  the  night-bird  sweetly  warbled 
(46) 


LELAH   GRATSON.  47 

Serenades  to  his  loved  one  fair. 
Fled  the  moments;   lovely  Lelah 

Trembled,  and  her  lips  of  red 
Quivered  like  a  cherub's  grieving ; 

Then  she  heard  a  manly  tread 

IV. 

Echoing  down  the  rustic  pathway. 

Then  in  richest  music's  tone, 
Came  the  words  :  "  My  lovely  Lelah, 

Have  I  kept  you  waiting  lone?" 
Round  her  wai^t  his  strong  arm  circled, 

To  her  lips  he  pressed  his  own  ; 
In  her  ear  his  vows  he  breathed, 

Neath  the  beeches'  somber  gloom: 

V. 

"  Oh,  my  love,  my  peerless  darling, 

Dearer  far  than  life  to  me  ; 
Is  the  heart  which  you  have  given 

To  my  keep  ng  fall  and  free  ? 
But,  sweet  one,  this  pleasant  meeting 

For  long  months  mast  be  our  last; 
On  to-morrow  from  my  old  home, 

To  a  new  one  I  must  pass. 

VI. 

"  Out  upon  the  rolling  prairie,  ^ 

Fortune  seeking  then  I  go  ; 
Oh,  my  Lelah !  oh,  my  Lelah  ! 

Will  you,  can  you  love  me  so  ? 
That  for  months,  e'en  years,  you'll  wait  me 

In  your  far-off  northern  home; 


48  LELAH    GRATSON. 

Never  losing  faith,  but  love  me, 
Till  to  claim  you  I  shall  coirte  ?  " 

VII. 

Then  with  soft  eyes,  tear  bcjeweled, 

Fondly  lifted  to  his  own, 
Lelah  Grayson  bravely  murmured  : 

"I  will  love  and  wait,  nor  moan, 
Though  for  years  you  should  a-linger 

On  the  blooming  prairies  wild; 
I  will  trust  you,  and,  my  Savior, 

True  confiding  as  a  child. 

VIII. 

"  You  will  love  and  bravely  labor, 

Waiting  for  the  hour  to  come, 
When  with  joy,  and  hope  illuming 

Your  fond  heart,  you'll  bring  me  homej 
And  our  loving  Heavenly  Father 

Will  e'er  guard  us  with  an  eye 
That  through  ages  ne'er  doth  siumber; 

You  will  claim  me  by  and  by." 

IX. 

"  Bless  you,  Lelah  !  bless  you,  Lelah  I 

For  those  words  of  love  and  cheer; 
0    Yes,  my  darling,  I  shall  claim  you, 

Only  trust  and  wait  me  here." 
Once  again  her  l.ps  he  presses, 

W  Idly  strains  her  to  his  breast: 
Then  a  ILy  from  her  bosom 

Next  his  throbing  heart  doth  rest. 


LELAH   GRATSON.  49 

X. 

Softly  through  the  somber  beeches 

Crept  the  young  moon's  silver  beam, 
Changing  into  starry  jewels, 

Tears  that  on  her  lashes  gleam ; 
Knelt  she  on  the  dewy  grasses, 

Breathing  forth  a  fervent  prayer ; 
For  her  lover  softly  passes 

Gentle  zephyrs  through  her  hair. 

XI. 

Then  arising,  smiling  happy, 

Faith  was  hers,  and  without  lack ; 
Said  she :  "  Oh !  I  ne'er  shall  sorrow, 

For  my  Robert  will  come  back." 
Days  swift  fled  till  months  had  vanished, 

Months  rolled  on  till  years  had  flown; 
Till  seven  times  the  changing  seasons 

Bloomed  and  faded.     Still  alone, 

XII. 

Lelah  Grayson  ever  hopeful, 

Watching,  waiting  for  her  love, 
Dwelt,  nor  dreamt  of  e'er  distrusting 

Him  whose  life,  all  else,  above, 
She  had  prayed  might  be  unto  her 

Spared,  that  in  the  future  bright, 
She  might  of  his  prairie  cabin  • 

Be  the  center  shining  light. 

XIII. 
But  for  years  no  words  had  reached  her 


50  LELAH   GRAYSON. 

From  the  wild,  wild  border  track, 
Where  her  lover  was  sojourning  ; 

Still,  "  My  Robert  will  come  back," 
Said  pure  faith  to  love  a-pining, 

For  the  presence  of  its  own, 
For  its  fondly-worshiped  idol : 

"Patience,  soon  he  will  be  home." 

XIV. 
Lelah  Grayson  grew  in  beauty 

As  the  years  swift  glided  on ; 
Many  rich  and  noble  suitors 

Loved  her,  urged  her  to  don 
Their  proud  names,  but  she  declined  them ; 

Kept  she  in  the  old,  old  track, 
Trusting,  loving,  hoping,  saying  : 

"  My  brave  Robert  will  come  back." 

XT. 

But  none  dreamt  why  she  waited ; 

Friends  low  gossiped,  parents  chid, 
Lovers  scowled,  they  blamed  and  hated, 

Knowing  not  that  secret  hid ; 
Nestling  in  her  faithful  bosom 

Smiled  a  noble-pictured  face ; 
The  bright  face  of  handsome  Robert, 

Truth  and  love  each  feature  graced. 

XVI. 

And  when  lonely,  sad  and  yearning, 
For  his  presence  Lelah  mourned  ; 

Oft  to  learn  faith's  holy  patience, 
To  the  flowers  and  sun  she  turned; 


LELAH   GRAYSON.  5] 

And  she  marked  the  eve's  s«->ft  gloaming, 
And  the  slumbering  blossoms  low, 

And  she  marked  them  sadly  weeping 
When  the  sunbeams  ceased  to  glow. 

XVII. 

And  she  saw  them  gladly  smiling 

When  the  day  god  'lume>J  earth's  track ; 
"As  the  sun  comes  to  the  flowers, 

So  my  Robert  will  come  back." 
Then  anon  her  heart  grew  lighter, 

And  fair  Lelah  blithely  sung, 
And  in  her  slightest  accent 

Something  wondrous  gladsome  rung. 

XVIII. 
Thus  it  happened  on  an  evening 

In  the  month  of  rosy  May, 
To  the  beeches  softly  gloaming, 

O'er  the  brooklets  silver  way, 
Gentle  Lelah  wandered  dreaming 

Of  her  loved  one  afar; 
Her  sweet  face  of  witching  beauty 

Glowing  brightly  as  a  star. 

XIX. 

From  the  velvet  turf  she  gathered 

Violets  blue  as  heaven's  skies; 
From  the  cooling  limpid  waters, 

Gleaming  lilies  gently  rire. 
In  her  glittering,  golden  tresses 

Twines  she  nature's  sapphires  bright ; 
On  her  gently  heaving  bosom 

Placed  she  lilies  snowy  white ; 


52  LELAII    GRAYSON. 

XX. 

Saying  softly :  "  Robert  loved  them ; 

Violets  are  like  angels'  eyes, 
And  the  lilies  spirits  saintod 

Wear  above  in  Paradise. 
From  my  breast  he  took  a  lily, 

More  must  blossom  sweetly  there, 
(When  he  comes  to  proudly  claim  me), 

And  amid  my  golden  hair. 

XXI. 

"Nor  longer  can  he  linger 

On  the  far-off  prairie  track  ; 
Yes,  I  cull  them,  daily  wear  there, 

Soon  my  Robert  will  come  back  " 
Rang  a  step  adown  the  pathway 

Leading  to  the  trysting  brook, 
Then  a  bronzed  and  stalwart  stranger 

Stood  within  the  sh  ided  nook. 

XXII. 

Strange  he  may  have  been  to  others, 

Not  quite  strange  to  Lelah  fair  ; 
Thrice  before  this  had  she  met  him 

Silent,  mingling,  quiet,  where 
She  as  chosen  belle  and  beauty 

Of  her  village  queen -like  reigned. 
Startled  was  the  maiden  truly, 

And  her  terror  was  unfeigned. 

XXIII. 

"Pardon,"  said  the  handsome  stranger. 
"Let  me  speak  to  you  to-night; 


LELAH   GRAYSON. 

Lelah,  sweetest  one,  I  love  you, 
Pause,  nor  start  in  angry  flight ; 

Oh  long,  long  have  I  worshiped, 
Worshiped  vainly  from  afar, 

You,  my  rare,  my  peerless  jewel, 
As  one  loves  a  radiant  star 

XXIV.      ' 

"Shining  far  above  his  station. 

Lelah,  maiden  Eweet  and  mild, 
Say  you  love  me,  say  you  love  me, 

Or  my  poor  brain  will  go  wild." 
Thrilled  his  accents  strangely  through  her; 

Trembled  she,  cot  knowing  why  ; 
To  refuse  him  made  her  heart  bleed, 

And  her  soul  too  sadly  cry. 

XXV. 

"Sir,"  said  Lelah,  very  softly, 

With  her  tearful  eyes  a-glow  ; 
"  Smooth  and  even  as  yon  brooklet's, 

Does  my  heart's  love  current  flow ; 
Years  agone  my  hand  was  plighted, 

And  my  heart  I  with  it  gave, 
Then  my  lover  from  me  wandered, 

(Frown  not ;  pure  as  yon  bright  wave 

XXVI. 

Is  his  love  and  peerless  honor) 
To  the  prairies'  blooming  track. 

Smile  not  pityingly  upon  n\e  ; 

Soon  my  Robert  will  come  back." 

"LELAH  !  "  with  a  cry  she  started, 


64  LELAH   GRAYSON. 

That  voice  oft  she'd  heard  before ; 
Smiled  the  hronzed  and  stalwart  stranger. 
»  Then,  shedding  her  bright  ray  o'er 

XXVII. 

The  pair  a-neath  the  beeches, 

Through  the  heavens  Luna  sailed, 
And  the  bearded  face  to  Lelah, 

By  her  light  was  now  revealed  ; 
Oped  his  arms,  swift  to  his  bosom 

Flew  the  lovely,  trembling  one ; 
As  to  the  ark  of  Noah 

Flew  his  bright  dove,  absent  long. 

XXVIII. 

As  to  its  mate  the  night-bird, 

Startled,  trembling  flies  ; 
Fainting  half  with  joy,  with  terror, 

Lelah  in  his  arms  lies  ; 
O'er  the  wastes  of  barren  deserts, 

O'er  the  prairies'  blooming  track, 
To  reclaim  his  bride  a-waiting, 

Handsome  Robert  then  came  back. 


TIE!  IE 

Cy> 

•all  0f  warms 


i. 

"ALEXANDER!"    Deathless  glory 

Marks  the  mighty  conqueror's  name  ; 
Lauded  in  wild  song  and  story, 

Is  the  ruthless  monarch's  fame. 
Royal  born,  from  kings  descended, 

Macedonia's  peerless  lord ; 
Who  on  naught  but  hope  depended, 

And  his  ready,  trusty  sword. 

II. 
Dark  his  soul  as  midnight  ebon, 

When  dense  clouds  doth  vail  the  sky, 
Hiding  Luna's  luster  given, 

From  the  weary  traveler's  eye ; 
For  his  heart  was  full  of  cunning, 

Serpent-like  his  subtle  guile ; 
He  could  fawn  on  those  he  hated, 

Mask  his  hatred  in  his  smile. 

III. 

'Neath  that  wile  his  father  suffered ; 
Clitus  'neath  it  low  expired, 
(55) 


$6  THE   FALL   OF 

Murdered  by  famed  Alexander, 

When  with  wine  his  blood  was  fired; 

For  the  monarch  young  and  brave, 
Grave  to  all  who  dared  oppose  him, 

Cruel  death  and  gloomsome  grave. 

IV. 
O'er  the  plains  of  vast  Gedrosia 

Passed  the  monarch,  breathing  there, 
During  days  of  toilsome  marching, 

Simoon's  deadly  burning  air. 
O'er  the  Indus  crossed  Macedon's 

Dauntless  leader,  crushing  all, 
Every  nation  that  defied  him 

Fought  and  bled  to  helpless  fall. 

V. 

Afghan's  ruler  bowed  submissive 

To  the  conqueror's  galling  yoke ; 
Egypt  yielded  fore  the  tyrant, 

Stooped  his  mercy  to  invoke  ; 
The  proud  Chaldeans,  crushed  and  humbled, 

Writhing  bore  Macedon's  sway  ; 
But  his  crowning  triumph  graced  him 

On  the  field  of  famed  Syria. 

VI. 

'Twas  against  the  haughty  Persian, 
Darius,  that  Macedon  moved  ; 

To  subdue  the  Orient  ruler, 

Macedon's  chief  it  now  behooved ; 

But  how  was  the  youthful  monarch 
To  o'ercorne  the  Persian  hosts? 


DARIUS   CODOMANNTTS   II. 

Darius  numbered  countless  soldiers, 
Formidable  the  foeman  boasts 

VII. 

Of  his  wealth,  his  mighty  treasures ; 

Confident  of  victory,  he 
Marches  'gainst  young  Alexander, 

One  vast,  moving,  human  sea ; 
Darius  proudly  faced  the  foemen, 

Fearing  not  the  invader's  sword, 
Scorning  Magi's  mystic  warning, 

Heedless  of  the  prophet's  word 

VIII. 

With  his  pomp  his  glory  circled 

Round  him,  Darius  sought  the  field, 
Trusting  in  the  strength  of  riches, 

Vowing  that  he  ne'er  would  yield ; 
While  to  him  the  gods  accorded 

Life,  he'd  use  his  tempered  sword, 
Fighting  for  his  honor,  glory, — 

Well  the  monarch  kept  his  word. 

IX. 

To  the  battle  Darius  hastened; 

Fore  his  army  reverent  borne, 
Were  bright  silver  altars  chastened, 

Whereon  the  eternal  fires  burned  ; 
These  were  followed  by  the  Magi, 

Singing  hymns  along  the  way, 
Offering  praise  to  the  all-glorious, 

Radiant  god  of  beauteous  day. 


58  THE   FALL   OP 

X. 

O'er  three  hundred  youths  in  scarlet 

Robes,  betrimmed  with  cloth  of  gold, 
Served  the  Magi  at  the  altars, 

Sacred  scrolls  of  state  to  hold ; 
Then  came  chariots  rare  and  costly, 

Bearing  all  the  Orient  gods, 
Drawn  by  steeds  white  as  the  moonbeams, 

All  the  equerries  bearing  rods 

XI. 

Of  rare  gold,  inwrought  with  jewels; 

While  the  great  "  h.trse  of  the  sun  " 
Followed,  leading  the  "  Immortals," 

Who  full  many  a  gift  had  won 
From  their  monarch.     Golden  collars 

Bound  their  throats  and  tissue  robes, 
Garnished  o'er  with  gems- barbaric, 

Decked  the  chosen  and  beloved. 

XII. 

After  came  the  ruler's  cousins, 

Then  upon  a  golden  car, 
Rode  the  lord  of  Iran's  people, 

Crowned  with  richly-gemmed  tiara; 
Robed  in  purple,  striped  with  silver, 

O'er  his  shoulders  fell  a  mantle, 
Wrought  on  the  which  with  precious  stones, 

Flashed  the  pictures  of  two  falcons ; 
Battling  one  for  prey,  one  for  its  own. 

XIII. 

Then  came  all  the  royal  children, 


DARIUS  CODOMANNUS  II.  59 

With  their  servants,  tutors  grave, 
Followed  by  the  monarch's  mother 

And  his  consort.     Truly  brave 
Looked  the  guards  that  them  attended ; 

And  robed  like  so  many  queens, 
Came  the  beauteous  royal  ladies 

Of  his  harem ;  bright,  serene 

XIV. 

Were  the  jewels  of  his  household ; 

Jealousy  was  then  unknown 
To  the  prides  of  Iran's  harem, 

To  love  Darius  all  had  grown. 
Then  came  hordes,  patient  camels, 

Bearing  Persia's  treasures  vast, 
Guarded  by  the  light-horse  lancers, 

Nowise  least,  though  coming  last. 

XV. 

Thus  surrounded  by  his  subjects, 

Darius  marched  against  the  foe  ;  . 

On  the  field  of  famed  Assyria, 

Dealt  the  fiercest,  wildest  blow. 
'Grainst  the  Macedon  invader 

Alexander  battled  well  ; 
His  proud  standard  rose  in  triumph, 

That  of  Darius  lowly  fell. 

XVI. 

Scattered,  frightene  1  fled  the  Persians, 

Hopeless  .Darius  followed  suit ; 
Vain  he  strove  his  men  to  rally, 

Vanquished  was  he  then  in  sooth : 


THE   PALL   OP 

Macedon  pursued  the  monarch 
Ruthless,  till  the  Persian  horde 

Yielded  to  the  grim  invader, 
Putting  to  the  reeking  sword. 

XVII. 

Darius,  their  once  mighty  ruler, 
Crushed,  deserted  by  his  own, 
In  a  cart,  not  golden  chariot, 

Drew  his  last,  deep,  dying  moan. 
There  a  chief  of  Macedonia 
v  Found  the  expiring  Darius;  low 
Were  the  words  the  monarch  uttered, 
Said  he :  "  Tell  my  generous  foe, 

XVIII, 
"  Darius  prayed  the  gods  to  bless  him 

For  his  kindness  to  the  queen ; 
Chosen  of  the  Persian  monarch, 

Tell  him  that  he  honors  e'en 
The  invader  of  his  country  ; 

'Tis  his  prayer  the  universe, 
Macedon  may  rule  in  future, 

Give  my  message  to  him  terse. 

XIX. 

"  Farewell,  brave  Macedon,  farewell, 

Tell  him  'tis  the  lot  of  kings 
To  be  o'erthrown  ;  tell  him  remember 

Of  Darius  the  sufferings. 
Bid  him  avenge  my  death,  Macedon; 

Tell  your  monarch  Persia's  horde 
But  obeys  its  sire's  mandate 

When  enforced  by  lance  and  sword." 


DARIUS   CODOMANNTJS   II.  61 

XX. 

Alexander  o'er  the  monarch 

Wept  profusely,  who  can  say 
Whether  'twas  from  grief  or  pleasure 

That  his  foe  had  passed  away. 
He  had  hunted  Darius  ruthless, 

Hunted  him  to  cruel  death; 
Then  hewailed  his  bitter  sufferings, 

When  had  fled  that  sufferer's  breath. 

XXI. 

Thus  died  Darius.    All  hh  glory, 

Wealth  and  pomp  failed  to  maintain 
Him  through  the  battle.     Fate  frowned  on  him; 

Death  all  pitiless  came  to  claim 
Him  as  victim  for  the  slaughter ; 

The  wretched  monarch  low  expired, 
From  the  throne  held  by  his  fathers, 

To  the  tomo  the  king  retired. 

XXII. 

Then  his  rival  Alexander, 

Donned  the  Persian  diadem, 
Made  himself  fair  Iran's  ruler. 

Haughty  noblemen 
Scowled,  complained;  but  Macedon 

Held  the  reins  with  iron  will, 
Proud  defying  earth's  great  monarch 

To  subdue  him.     Victory  still 

XXIII. 

Crowned  his  campaigns,  >  ations  trembled, 
Blo.d  fell  fast  as  heaven's  bright  rain, 


62  THE   FALL   OP   DARIUS   CODOMMANNUS   II. 

Alexander's  fame  and  glory 

Shook  with  terror  land  and  main; 

All  the  East  was  subdued  by  him, 
Save  fair,  famous  Araby, 

Where,  in  all  its  wondrous  beauty, 
Springs  the  sweet  frankincense  tree. 

XXIV. 

'Gainst  the  shrine  of  mighty  Allah 

Alexander  savage  turned ; 
To  destroy  the  land  of  flowers, 

Macedonia's  monarch  burned ; 
But  the  God  of  Christian  nations, 

God  of  earth,  blue  sky  and  sea, 
Raised  His  hand,  breathed  the  sentence 

That  set  struggling  kingdoms  free. 

XXV. 

Thus  the  star  that  rose  in  splendor, 
Set  no  more  to  glorious  shine ; 

Death  was  lord  of  Alexander, 
Ended  Philip's  noble  line. 


i. 


"  KATIE,  pretty  one,  I  love  you, 

Will  you  be  my  little  bride  ?  ' 
Said  young  Harry,  gently  drawing 

The  fair  maiden  to  his  side. 
"Will  you  give  yourself  unto  me, 

To  love,  cherish  and  protect?" 
"  No,"  cried  Kate,  "  some  other  maiden, 

For  your  bride  you  must  elect." 

II. 

Very  saucy,  very  witching 

Looked  the  little  beauty  then ; 
Just  such  sprites  are  made  to  torture 

Tender-hearted,  love-sick  men. 
Harry  stared  in  wide-eyed  wonder 

At  the  radiant  fairy  bright, 
Surely  Katie  couldn't  mean  it 

Thus  his  happiness  to  blight. 

III. 

He  had  been  so  sure  she  loved  him; 

And  here,  lovers,  let  me  say 
To  you  in  secret  whispers, 
(63) 


64  TIIK    HAUNTED    WELL. 

'Tis  the  swiftest,  surest  way 
You  can  choose  to  vex  a  woman, 

If  you  love  her,  tell  her  so, 
But  never  hint,  you're  sure  to  win  her, 

This,  in  confidence,  you  know. 

IV. 

Like  a  queenly  little  coquette, 

Katie  tossed  her  pretty  head; 
Then  alas  !  for  perverse  woman, 

From  his  side  she  swiftly  fled  ; 
For  the  willful  tears,  so  traitorous, 

Were  flooding  her  bright  eyes ; 
Now  she  sought  to  keep  them  secret, 

Katie  was  so  very  wise. 

V. 

On  she  flew  like  young  fawn  startled, 

Till  she  reached  an  arbor  where 
Sweet  wild-roses,  honeysuckles 

Blended  scent  and  blossoms  rare; 
And  a  crystal  fountain  flashing 

In  the  sun's  resplendent  ray, 
Gemm  d  the  flowers  and  the  vine  leaf, 

With  its  cooling  silver  spray. 

VI. 

Here  she  paused,  sad,  half  repenting 
Of  her  willful  conduct,  vain 

Had  she  been,  but  sure  her  lover 
Would  be  with  her  soon  again. 

"If  he  does  not  come  I'll  hate  him, 
If  he  does "  she  laughed  outright 


THE   HAUNTED   WELL.  65 

As  she  viewed  the  sad  face  pictured 
By  her  memory  fresh  and  bright. 

VII. 

"  He  was  so  very  sure  I  loved  him, 

Vain,  conceited,  I  must  say ; 
No,  he  is  the  dearest  fellow, 

Oh  why  did  I  run  away  ? 
He  is  coming,  yes,  I'll  linger, 

Here  for  a  little  while, 
Selfish  was  he  thus  to  wile 

Me  scowling  on  my  other  suitors. 

VIII. 

"Why,  there's  handsome  Charlie  Grey, 

I'll  accept  him,  no  I  hate  him, 
Why  does  Harry  stay  away? 

I  don't  care,  I  never  loved  him, 
Nor  do  I  like  his  style, 

Dark  and  jealous  as  Othello, 
I'll  wait  another  while. 

And  then  he  is  so  stately, 

IX. 

With  his  solemn,  owl-like  ways ; 

Harry,  oh  why  do  you  linger? 
Come,  I'll  love  you  all  my  days." 

Vain  were  her  willful  pleadings, 
Handsome  Harry  failed  to  come  ; 

Angry,  jealous,  loving,  penitent, 
Poor  Katie  wandered  home. 
5 


66  THE   HAUNTED   WELL. 

X. 

At  her  lattice,  late  and  eariy, 

Kept  she  watching  down  the  lane ; 
But  to  her  rejected  Harry 

Failed  to  fondly  come  again ; 
So  the  summer  with  her  beauties 

An'l  her  pleasures  drifted  on, 
Till  the  fruitful,  golden  Autumn, 

Did  her  robes  of  purple  don. 

XI. 

Still  poor  Katie  lonely  lingered, 

Watching,  waiting,  all  in  vain, 
Daily  grew  her  blue  eyes  sadder, 

And  more  bitter  her  heart's  pain; 
Darker  grew  the  skies  above  her, 

And  no  longer  hope  elate 
Bade  her  wait  her  recreant  lover 

At  the  rustic  cottage  gate. 

XII. 

Thus  the  days  passed  by  so  weary, 

And  no  lover  sought  poor  Kate; 
Then  unto  a  Gipsy  seeress, 

AVent  the  maid  to  learn  his  fate. 
Said  the  seeress  :  "  Of  young  Harry's 

Fate  to  thee  naught  can  I  tell, 
But  on  the  eve  of  All  Hallows, 

Visit  thou  the  haunted  Well. 

XIII. 

"  There  beyond  the  oak  that's  riven, 
By  the  stars'  uncerta:n  light, 


THE    HAUNTED   WELL. 

Standing  'neath  the  vaulted  heaven, 
Thou'lt  behold  thy  mate  for  life." 

On  the  eve  of  All  Hallows, 
Katie  wandered  forth  alone, 

Thinking  sadly  of  her  lover, 

Till  she  readied  the  dark  well  stone. 

XIV. 
Then  she  looked,  half  hoping,  fearing, 

There  in  the  uncertain  light 
Stood  her  lover,  handsome  Harry ; 

Turned  she  round  in  startled  flight, 
But  a  voice  deep,  rich  and  tender, 

Called,  "  My  Katie,  do  not  go;" 
Then  a  pair  of  arms  embraced  her, 

And  the  captive,  sobbing  low, 

XV. 

Told  him  of  her  sweet  repentance ; 

Pleaded  him  to  now  forgive, 
Vowing  she  would  love  h'm  ever, 

For  him  would  joyously  live. 
Then  she  told  him  of  the  seeress, 

Of  her  magic  powers  rare; 
"  Strange  that  she  should  know  you,  Harry, 

Is  it  not?  "     "  Yes,  Katie  fair. 

XVI. 

"For  my  love  I  too  despairing, 
Sought  the  beldame  in  her  cot, 

Not  to  learn  by  magic  power 
What  would  be  my  future  lot ; 

But  to  weave  some  subtle  trial, 


68  THE   HAUNTED   WELL. 

Both  your  love  and  hate  to  test; 
Then  she  many  a  plan  unraveled, 
Katie,  shall  I  tell  the  best  ? 

XVII. 

"  Well,  love,  we  were  deep  discussing, 

When  we  saw  you  coming  fair ; 
Now  recall  the  curtained  recess, 

Near  the  Gipsy  I  stood  there, 
And  I  heard  your  tearful  query." 

Flashed  her  blue  eyes,  "  Sir,  how  dare  I 
Oh  I'll  hate  you."     "No,  my  angel, 

For  your  Harry  then  the  snare, 

XVIII. 

"  (Cunning  was  it  ?  )  she  set  for  you, 

And  I  caught  my  pretty  bird ; 
Don't  be  angry,  for  I  love  you, 

Ye~,  I  know  we're  both  absurd; 
Bu"  I  also  know,  my  lady, 

That  your  heart  was  breaking  slow." 
Held  he  fast  the  angry  beauty, 

Lest  she  from  him  'gain  would  go. 

XIX 

But  at  length  she  grew  submissive, 

Tender,  joyous  as  a  dove, 
A.nd  she  laughed  with  handsome  Harry 

At  the  story  of  their  love. 
Years  have  fled  since  that  reunion, 

Happy,  blest  and  g.-iy  they  dwell; 
And  on  each  eve  of  All  Hallows, 

Tell  they  of  the  haunted  well, 


in  (Stoning 


i. 

'TWAS  eve,  that  calmly  witching  hour 
When  beauty  shines  with  all  her  power ; 
The  stars  were  gemming  the  azure  sky 
The  moon  shone  in  her  brilliancy; 
The  earth  in  robes  of  green  was  clad, 
The  flowers  were  slumbering  in  their  bed ; 
The  wind  sighed  softly  'mong  the  trees, 
It  was  the  hour  of  rest  and  ease. 
The  night-bird  warbled  forth  his  song, 
The  cricket  chirped  loud  and  long  ; 
The  balmy  air  was  with  fragrance  fraught, 
It  was  the  hour  of  love  and  thought. 

II. 

I  sat  me  by  a  silvery  stream 
That  rippled  'neath  bright  Luna's  beam ; 
I  sat  me  there  to  dream  a  while 
Of  flowery  land  and  sea-girt  isle  ; 
Oh  they  were  bright  and  strangely  grand, 
The  thoughts  that  wandered  through  my  mind, 
Until  the  touch  of  a  fairy  hand, 
Aroused  me  from  my  beauteous  dreams. 
It  was  a  wondrous,  glorious  scene 
(69) 


70  AN   EVENING   DREAM. 

That  met  my  wildered  wakening  ; 
For  round  me  strewn  on  every  hand 
Lay  wealth  from  thousand  different  lands. 

III. 

The  gold  ore  so  rich  and  pure, 

Lay  on  the  murmuring  streamlet's  shore, 

And  on  a  throne  with  royal  mien, 

There  I  beheld  of  wealth  the  queen; 

And  with  a  smile,  pleasing  to  see, 

The  regal  lady  turned  to  me. 

"  0  child  of  earth,  .accept,"  said  she, 

"The  gift  that  I'll  bestow  on  thee; 

But  bow  thy  head  before  my  shrine, 

And  nameless  wealth  shall  then  be  thine." 

"  0  Wealth,"  I  cried,  "  thy  bounty's  great, 

But  of  it  I  may  not  partake ; 

To  bow  my  head  before  thy  shrine, 

Thy  gift  must  be  far  more  divine." 

IV. 

My  temptress  vanished  and  instead, 
Fair  V<  nus  raised  her  rose -crowned  head  ; 
Her  chariot  was  an  ivory  j-hell 
Drawn  by  the  fleetest,  whitest  swans; 
Her  purple  mantle  wrought  with  gems, 
Was  loosely  o'er  her  shoulders  flung. 
Three  graces  bright  around  her  stood, 
Two  Cupids  at  her  sides  with  floods 
Of  love  were  seen  ;  holding  her  train 
The  handsome  youth,  Adonis,  came. 

V. 
I  gazed  in  wonder  and  surprise     . 


AN    EVENING  DREAM. 

Upon  the  qu3en  of  rare  beauties, 
As  with  her  most  bewitching  smile 
She  offered  me  her  gift  sublime. 
"A  maid  i  f  beauty  thou  shalt  be, 
If  thou  wilt  only  worship  me." 
"  0  Venus  fair,  thy  gift  is  rare, 
But  thy  beauty  I  can  not  share  ; 
To  none  but  Him  who  reigns  above, 
Can  I  my  adoration  prove." 

VI. 

The  goddess  left  my  wondering  sight, 
And  Jupiter  came  in  his  might, 
Holding  the  thunders  in  one  hand, 
The  other  held  his  cypress  wand  ; 
Extending  forth  his  strong  right  hand, 
The  one  that  held  the  flaming  brand, 
Said  :  "  Maid  of  earth,  thy  courage  school, 
And  learn  the  Thunderer's  dread  to  rule; 
But  kneel  thou  at  my  royal  throne, 
And  all  this  power  will  be  thine  own. 
"Ah  !  Jove,"  I  said,  "  Great  power  is  sweet, 
But  great  and  dread  is  thy  deceit ; 
For  should  I  yield  unto  thy  power, 
Like  Metis,  thou  mightst  me  devour." 

VII. 

Aghast  the  Thunderer  mutely  stood, 
With  rage  untold  boiled  fierce  his  blood; 
Then  he  raised  his  fiery,  hissing  brands 
To  crush  me  to  the  gleaming  sands, 
But  Peace  her  olive  wand  between 
Us  thrust,  me  from  his  wrath  to  screen. 


72  AN   EVENING   DREAM. 

VIII. 

The  Thunderer  melted  like  a  cloud, 

And  I  beheld  the  god  of  love ; 

His  robes  were  from  the  roses  spun, 

With  broken  hearts  his  spear  was  strung ; 

And  wrought  in  most  exquisite  art, 

He  poised  his  fatal,  jeweled  dart. 

In  tones  of  witching  music  low, 

Said  he:  "  111  pierce  thy  young  heart  through, 

Thou,  who  with  beauty  unadorned, 

The  Thunderer  of  Olympus  scorned  j 

I'll  melt  thy  heart  of  frigid  ice, 

I'll  crush  it  in  love's  cruel  vice." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  avaunt,  thou  little  wretch, 

My  heart  is  steel  unto  thy  touch  ; 

On  earth  to  thee  it  ne'er  sha.l  bow, 

Go,  little  mischief-maker,  now.'' 

He  turned  him  round,  and  well  I  know, 

Though  blind,  he  saw  which  way  to  go. 

IX. 

The  god  scarce  left  me  when  there  came 

In  robes  of  snow,  the  queen  of  Fame ; 

In  one  fair  hand  she  held  the  wreath, 

The  wreath  that  thousands  vainly  seek, 

In  voice  of  silv'ry  clearness  low, 

She  bid  me  'fore  her  then  to  bow. 

"  The  gift  of  wealth  thou  hast  declined, 

Of  beauty  thou  hast  cast  aside, 

Of  power  and  love  thou  hast  disdained, 

Now  thou  art  Honor's  gifted  child; 

Then  lowly  bond  this  head  of  thine, 


AN   EVENING  DREAM.  73 

In  Fame's  immortal  circlet  shine, 

Walk  in  the  narrow  path  to  God; 

Guided  by  pure  Virtue's  rod, 

And  Love  and  Wealth  and  Power  will  grace 

Thy  life  one  long,  long  hour  of  peace. 

I  raised  my  eyes  to  thank  the  queen, 

I  woke  TO  FIND  IT  ALL  A  DREAM. 


i. 

SEATED  were  two  lovely  sisters, 

In  a  tiring  chamber,  where 
Maids  from  sunny  France's  bosom, 

Decked  each  peerless  maiden.     Bare 
Jewels  on  their  bosoms  sparkled, 

And  upon  their  robes  of  snow, 
Bridal  flowers,  rare  and  fragrant, 

Too  were  seen  to  sweetly  blow. 

II. 

Claudia,  eldest  of  the  sisters, 

Darkly  beautiful  and  proud, 
Was  regal  as  a  youthful  empress ; 

From  her  haughty  head  a  cloud 
Of  rich,  silken  curls,  purple 

As  the  raven's  polished  wing, 
Swept  a-down  her  sloping  shoulders; 

And  in  every  perfumed  ring 

III. 

Flashed  a  gem  of  wondrous  beauty; 

And  upon  her  queen-liive  brow, 
Bloomed  a  crown  of  orange  blossoms, 
(74) 


LOVE  AND  AMBITION.  75 

Purely  br'ght  as  v  rgin  snow. 
In  her  eyes  of  dusky  splendor, 

Hovered  pride  and  joy  and  mirth ; 
But  to  love's  all-tender  luster, 

Those  rare  orbs  failed  to  give  birth. 

IV. 

But  aneath  this  mask  of  glory, 

Lurked  a  grievous,  heartsick  pain ; 
For  proud  Claudia  crushed  her  sole  love, 

Wealth,  unbounded  wealth  to  gain. 
Near  her  sat  her  lovely  sister, 

Radiant,  happy  as  a  dove  ; 
'Mid  her  glittering  golden  tresses, 

Nestled  gifts  of  her  true  love. 

V. 

Lilies  gathered  from  the  valley, 

And  upon  her  heaving  breast 
Sparkled  sapphires  rich  and  lustrous, 

As  the  gems  on  royal  crest; 
Love-light  in  her  eyes  of  azure, 

Danced  like  fairies  when  at  plav 
'Mong  the  violets  and  the  moonbeams, 

Full  of  mirth  and  mischief  gay. 

VI. 

"  Lulu,"  spoke  the  peerless  Claudia 

"  Tell  me  why  you  choose  to  wed 
With  a  poor  and  struggling  artist, 

Scarce  can  he  afford  you  bread  ? 
Foolish  are  you,  little  sister, 

With  a  fortune  in  your  grasp, 


76  LOVE    AND   AMBITION. 

To  forego  it  for  a  passion 

That  through  want  can  never  last. 

VII. 

"  Well  I  know,  my  darling  Lulu, 

That  most  tenderly  you  love  j 
But  to  win  wealth  is  the  motto 

Which  we  should,  all  else  above, 
Cling  to  firm,  over  unbending. 

Wealth  and  love  for  you  and  me 
To  receive,  is  such  a  blessing, 

That  our  fates  will  not  decree. 

VIII. 

"  I  have  loved,  my  little  sister, 

And  I  thought  that  love  was  dead, 
But  to-night  it  wakes  to  haunt  me 

Like  a  mocking  spirit  dread. 
'Yond  the  heaving  Spanish  ocean, 

Don  Alonza  now  doth  roam  ; 
But  my  heart  rebellious,  Lulu,1 

For  his  love  to-night  doth  moan. 

IX. 

"  Yes,  I  love  him,  little  sister, 

Though  this  is  my  wedding  night; 
Tremble  not,  my  angel  Lulu, 

What  I  say  is  far  from  right; 
And  yet  if  Don  Alonza 

Came  to  sue  my  hand  again, 
His  strong  love  would  be  rejected, 

Though  the  torture  turned  my  brain." 


LOVE   AND   AMBITION.  77 

X. 

"Claudia,"  faltered  gentle  Lulu_ 

Gazing  in  her  dusky  face ; 
"Why,  oh  why,  will  you  thus  suffer, 

When  a  word  would  bring  you  peace? 
He  to  whom  you  are  plighted, 

Deems  that  his  is  all  your  love; 
Sister,  if  your  soul  you'll  perjure, 

A  feH  curse  'twill  surely  prove" 

XI. 
"  Hush,  your  words  may  prove  prophetic," 

Cried  proud  Claudia,  paling  now; 
Hark  the  summons  to  the  bridal, 

Smooth  those  wrinkles  from  your  brow." 
Down  the  broad  and  gilded  stiirway, 

Swept  the  white-robed  bridal  train; 
While  within  the  lighted  parlors 

Stood  the  eager  guests  all  fain, 

XII 

Would  behold  the  peerless  sisters, 

Who  outshone  all  others  far; 
Each  a  flower  of  brightest  beauty, 

Each  a  radiant,  glowing  star. 
Soon  the  magic  words  were  spoken, 

Soon  each  maiden  was  a  bride; 
One  to  deathless  joy  was  bounden, 

One  to  life-long  woe  was  tied. 

XIII. 

Claudia  to  a  brown-stone  p  ilace 
Went  to  live,  resplendent  shone 


78  LOVE  AND  AMBITION. 

This  proud  beauty  in  the  setting 
Wealth,  that  in  her  heart  had  sown 

Such  dark  seeds  of  darker  sorrow; 
Thorns  of  lost  love  rankled  there, 

And  the  face  of  joung  Alonza, 
Haggard,  haunted  her  where'er 

XIV. 
She  might  seek  to  shun  its  presence; 

In  ihe  crowded  ball-room  gay, 
'M'  i  her  friends  at  festive  banquet, 

Still  it  mocked  her  night  and  day. 
Lulu  to  a  Western  city, 

With  her  Willie  chose  to  rove; 
Poor  in  gold,  but  rich  prodigal, 

Rich  in  beauty,  youth  and  love. 

XV. 

Winter  fled  and  gay  spring  blossomed, 

Springtime  faded,  summer  shone, 
In  her  robes  of  green  and  crimson, 

Autumn  reigned  when  she  had  flown; 
Autumn  dressed  in  gold  and  purple, 

Russet-brown  and  glowing  red, 
Winter  grimly  then  succeeded 

With  his  snow-crowned,  hoary  head. 

XVI. 

Thus  the  seasons  bloomed  and  faded, 
Till  ten  years  had  vanished  quite; 

And  it  happened  in  midwinter 
On  a  dark  and  chilly  night, 

A  close  carriage,  slowly  driven, 


LOVE  AND  AMBITION.  79 

Wound  along  a  lonely  street, 
Pausing  'fore  a  stately  mansion 

From  which  floated  strangely,  sweet 

XVI 

Strains  of  rare  and  witching  music; 

And  upon  the  snowy  pave 
Poured  a  flood  of  mellow  gaslight, 

As  of  gold  a  liquid  wave. 
Sounds  of  mirth,  the  songs  of  childhood, 

Pattering  swift  of  tiny  feet, 
Musical  and  cheery  laughter 

The  passer-by  doth  gayly  greet. 

XVIII. 
From  the  carriage  stepped  a  lady, 

Shrouded  in  the  deepest  black ; 
Droopingly  she  slow  approached 

The  great  house,  not  looking  back; 
Soon  the  bell's  clear,  silver  summons 

Opened  wide  the  hall-way  door, 
Then  the  weary,  black-robed  stranger 

Sank  upon  the  marble  floor. 

XIX. 

To  her  side  a  lovely  lady, 

Golden-haired,  with  eyes  of  blue, 
Trembling  with  tender  compassion, 

Quickly  sympathetic  flew. 
Then  the  vail  of  crape  was  lifted 

From  the  cold,  cold  pallid  face; 
"Claudia!  sister!"  cried  fair  Lulu, 

"  For  you  now  this  is  no  place." 


80  LOVE  AND  AMBITION. 

XX 

Soon  within  a  luxurious  chamber, 

On  a  snowy,  downy  bed 
Claudia  lay,  from  her  forever 

Was  her  royal  beauty  fled. 
Soon  the  sad  and  mournful  story 

.By  the  hapless  one  was  told, 
And  tho  bitter  lesson  learned 

By  all  who  sell  themselves  for  gold. 

XXI. 

"Lulu,"  said  the  dyinjj  Claudia, 

"For  awhile  I  fondly  dreamed 
That  great  wealth  would  heal  the  love-wound 

In  my  heart,  for  so  it  seemed; 
For  a  time  I  thought  n;e  happy, 

Happy  in  my  Harry's  love, 
And  I  strove  to  teach  my  poor  heart 

To  return  his  noble  love. 

XXII. 

"  But  alas  !   for  outward  seeming, 

Soon  I  wearied  of  the  bond 
Wrought  of  gold,  that  firmly  bound  me 

To  a  man  o'er  proud  and  fond; 
Restlessly  with  him  I  wandered 

From  foreign  land  to  land, 
Vainly  praying  for  my  lost  peace; 

Ever  on,  my  wan  left  hand 

XXIII. 

"  Shone  the  ring  which  said  you're  wedded, 
Tauntingly,  ruthless  and  dread, 


LOVE  AND  AMBITION.  81 

Till  I  cried  out  in  my  anguish: 

Oh  I  wish  my  heart  was  dead. 
In  a  pretty  little  hamlet, 

When  Queen  Summer  reigned  supreme, 
Sought  I  with  my  tender  husband, 

Safe  retreat  in  sunny  Spain. 

XXIV. 

"  On  a  lovely,  starlight  even, 

As  idly  through  an  orange  grove, 
I  lone  wandered,  there,  ah  Heaven ! 

I  beheld  my  banished  love  j 
Darkly,  wild  and  full  of  sorrow 

Looked  Alonza  once  so  fair, 
Silver  threads  were  softly  gleaming 

In  the  midnight  of  his  hair. 

XXV. 

"  With  a  glad,  glad  cry  of  rapture, 

Don  Alonza  reached  my  side, 
Clasped  me  to  his  wild  bosom, 

Dreaming  not  I  was  a  bride. 
'  Claudia !  oh  my  peerless  Claudia  I ' 

Cried  he,  '  My  heart's  bright  dove, 
Have  you  come  to  make  me  happy 

With  your  rare  and  royal  love? 

XXVI. 

" '  Long  I've  watched  for  you,  my  jewel, 

Long  I've  watched  you  from  afar, 
Waiting  patient  for  your  coming, 

As  the  wise  men  watched  the  star 


82  LOVE  AND  AMBITION. 

Of  Bethlehem  in  the  desert; 

Now  my  royal  rose  you're  here, 
Fate  itselt  can  never  part  us, 

Promised  bride  of  m  ne  most  dear.' 

XXVII. 

" '  Traitoress  ! '     Never,  Lulu,  gentle  sister, 

Never  more  can  I  forget 
That  one  word,  as  sad  reproachful 

As  the  bitter  sigh  of  death. 
From  Alonza's  arms  I  tore  me, 

There  my  noble  husband  stood, 
Me  regarding  with  such  glances 

As  almost  froze  my  blood. 

XXVIII. 

"  Soon  he  spoke  in  icy  accents : 

'  Well  I  know  what  sorrow  now 
Ever  in  your  proud  heart  rankled, 

That  e'er  gloomed  your  lovely  brow, 
'Twas  your  love  for  this  young  brigand ; 

Traitoress  !  soon  he'll  meet  his  fate, 
Come  though  false  as  mocking  mirage, 

Still  you  are  my  wife.'     Too  late 

XXIX. 

"  Came  the  startled  cry  I  uttered ; 

Swift  as  lightning's  lurid  ray, 
Flashed  aloft  Alonza's  dagger, 

Dead  before  me  Harry  lay. 
Years  have  fled,  Alonza  loved  me 

In  his  wild,  untutored  way; 
Closely  guarded  in  a  lone  cave, 

Dwelt  I  wretched  night  and  day, 


LOVE  AND  AMBITION.  83 

XXX. 

"  Till  the  countLss  Spanish  legions 

Scattered  wide  the  outlaw  band, 
Till  I  saw  my  second  husband  lying  low 

With  his  own  hand. 
When  o'ercome  by  cruel  foemen, 

He  had  closed  his  gloomy  life, 
Calling  on  me  soon  to  follow ; 

Murmuring :  '  Bless  my  lovely  wife.'  " 

XXXI. 

Claudia  paused,  her  tears  were  falling; 

Lulu  smiled,  half  hopeful  now, 
As  with  tender,  loving  pressure, 

She  gently  bathed  her  burning  brow. 
Soon  poor  Claudia  resumed  saying: 

"From  Alonza's  mountain  cave 
I  was  taken  weak  and  weary, 

The  dark  outlaw's  captive  slave. 

XXXII. 

"None  e'er  dreamt  of  how  I  loved  him; 

Pity  was  the  balm  they  gave, 
And  they  bade  me  thank  my  Maker, 

That  from  death  I  had  been  saved ; 
Then  I  begged  that  I  might  hasten 

To  the  free  land  of  my  birth,' 
And  the  kindly  Spaniards  sent  me 

To  destroy  your  peace  and  mirth. 

XXXIII. 

"  Lulu  when  our  paths  were  chosen 

I  was  very  poor  and  proud; 
I  crushed  love  and  married  riches, 


84  LOVE  AND  AMBITION. 

Love  you  chose,  nor  feared  want's  cloud; 
You  are  happy,  I  am  wretched, 

Two  hearts  in  the  dust  I  trod, 
Both  lie  cold  and  pulseless,  Lulu, 

'Neath  the  dark  and  gloomy  sod. 

XXXIV. 

"  I  have  naught  to  live  for,  sister, 

Save  the  stings  of  conscious  dread ; 
Farewell,  Lulu,  don't  forget  me," 

And  the  hapless  one  lay  dead. 
From  Claudia's  brow  the  sister 

Wiped  the  chilling  dews  of  death, 
While  her  tears  of  love  and  sorrow 

Mingled  with  her  latest  breath. 

XXXV. 
Knelt  fair  Lulu  at  the  bedside, 

Breathing  forth  a  fervent  prayer: 
"  I,  my  Heavenly  Father,  thank  thee 

For  thy  gifts  and  blessings  rare ; 
For  my  husband's  love  all  deathless, 

For  my  babes  of  beauty  bright; 
And  I  thank  thee,  Heavenly  Father, 

For  sure  guiding  me  aright." 

XXXVI. 
Lulu  mourned  for  her  sister, 

When  they  had  laid  her  low, 
'Neath  the  drooping,  weeping  willow; 

On  her  grave  bright  blossoms  grow, 
And  she  thanks  her  Heavenly  Father, 

That  to  her  he  deigned  to  unfold 
The  strange  mysteries  blest  of  wedding, 

For  sweet  love  and  nut  for  gold. 


PART  FIRST. 
I. 

THROUGH  the  streets  of  famed  Strasburg, 

Two  noble  youths  passed; 
Just  verging  on  manhood, 

Yet  with  the  boys  classed. 
Karl,  tall,  manly, 

Bold,  dashing,  his  eye, 
Blue,  dauntlessly  flashing, 

Seemed  fear  to  defy. 

II. 

His  proudly-poised  head, 

With  rich  golden  hair  crowned; 
His  high,  thoughtful  brow 

With  bright  curling  locks  bound, 
Told  of  a  grand  soul, 

Calm,  abi  ling  within  ; 
Told  of  talent,  of  genius, 

That  fame's  laurels  might  win. 

III. 

Oh  fond  was  the  mother 
That  called  him  her  son ; 
(85) 


THE  WARRIOR'S  FATE. 

Oh  happy  the  maid 

Whom  his  true  heart  won  ; 
Oh  proud  was  the  father 

That  called  him  his  own, 
And  honored  the  friends 

That  his  friendship  had  known. 

IV.      . 

Bight  merry  they  walked 

Through  the  over-thronged  street, 
Conversing  and  laughing 

In  gayety  sweet. 
When  lo  !  on  the  air 

They  heard  the  loud  call 
Of  the  warrior's  trumpet 

Startingly  fall. 

V. 
"  Hark  !  Henry,"  cried  Karl, 

"  What  means  that  loud  call? 
.Why  hasten  those  people, 
Men,  wome..  and  all  ?  " 
"  Because,"  said  his  friend, 

"  We're  at  war  with  the  French ; 
They  our  honor  and  filory 
From  us  fain  would  wrench." 

: 

VI. 

"  'Tis  the  call  of  our  country," 

Then  Karl  declared ; 
"  Oh,  Henry  !  'tis  even 

As  grandfather  feared  j 
Our  men  must  take  arms, 


THE  WARRIOR'S  FATE.  87 

Our  women  must  toil, 

Or  the  foe  o'er  our  nation 

Will  ravage  and  spoil. 

VII. 

"  We  must  fight,  dearest  Henry, 

Our  country  to  save, 
The  foe  shall  be  vanquished ; 

In  gore  we  must  lave 
Our  blades  ever  trusty, 

And  when  we  return 
From  the  war,  on  fame's  tablets 

Our  names  bright  shall  burn. 

VIII. 
"  Our  mothers  rejoicing, 

Shall  bless  their  brave  sons, 
Our  silver-haired  sires 

Shall  treasure  the  guns 
Used  by  their  brave  boys ; 

And  our  sweethearts  shall  sing 
From  excess  of  their  joy, 

Loud  their  anthems  shall  ring." 

IX. 

Oh  little  dreamt  Karl, 

As  gayly  he  spoke 
These  words,  half  prophetic, 

That  death's  fatal  stroke 
Would  bow  his  proud  head, 

Crowned  with  golden  hair  bright; 
From  the  soulful  blue  eyes, 

Strike  the  bold  hero  light. 


THE  "W  ARRIOR  S  FATE. 

X. 

His  friend  sa  ly  sighed 

As  he  gazed  on  the  boy, 
And  he  pitied  his  parents; 

The  maiden  whose  joy 
Was  wrapped  in  the  life 

Of  the  heroic  youth, 
And  he  groaned  in  his  heart 

As  he  guessed  at  the  truth. 


PART  SECOND. 

XI. 

Through  the  streets  of  famed  Strasburg, 

A  gallant  band  moved, 
In  whose  midst  handsome  Kar', 

The  dearly  beloved, 
Was  seen  proudly  marching; 

His  golden  head  high, 
While  the  hero  light  dauntless, 

Bold  flashed  in  his  eye. 

XII. 

His  friend,  thoughtful  Henry, 

Kept  pace  at  his  side ; 
Nor  prouder,  more  joyous, 

E'er  passed  a  young  bride 
From  the  home  of  her  parents, 

Than  Karl  the  fair; 
No  prince  of  blood  royal, 

Ever  boasted  his  air. 


THE  WARRIOR'S  FATE.  89 

.XIII. 

Before  quiting  his  home 

For  the  tent  and  the  field, 
Young  Karl  sought  Lena, 

To  whom  he  did  yield 
His  boy -heart  impulsive  j 

With  passionate  fire 
He  told  her  his  dreams, 

His  ambitious  desire 

XIV. 
To  become  a  great  hero. 

Poor  Lena  but  wept, 
To  the  breast  of  her  lover 

All  trembling  she  crept, 
And  sobbed,  "Oh,  my  Karl, 

Why  must  you  away? 
There  are  thousands  and  thousands 

To  join  in  the  fray. 

XV. 

"  Then  forego  your  ambitions, 

Nor  leave  me  alone  j 
What  is  glory  to  me, 

I  want  naught  but  my  own." 
"Hush,  Lena,  my  angel," 

Young  Karl  then  said ; 
"Oh  surely,  my  love, 

You're  a  patriot  maid. 

XVI. 

"  I  will  be  a  great  captain, 
Or  colonel  perhaps ; 


90  THE  WARRIOR'S  FATE. 

Then  you'll  love  me  the  more 
For  my  bright  shoulder  straps." 

"  No,  Karl,  my  lover, 
The  glitter  and  glare 

Of  uniforms  gay, 
I  am  ready  to  spare. 

XVII. 

"  I  never  admired 

The  trappings  of  war; 
Its  murderous  weapons 

I'll  ever  abhor. 
Frown  not,  dearest  Karl, 

I  know  you  are  bold, 
Patriotic  and  brave ; 

But  your  glory  and  gold 

XVIII. 

"  Now  decks  your  proud  head 

Like  a  crown  from  on  high ; 
Oh  leaA7e  me  not,  Karl ; 

What  if  you  should  die  ?  " 
"  Then,  Lena,  my  name 

In  rich  letters  of  gold, 
On  the  scroll-book  of  fame, 

The  tale  would  unfold ; 

XIX. 

"  Of  how  in  the  morning 

'  Of  glorious  youth, 
I  laid  down  my  life 

For  my  country — in  sooth, 
Dear  Lena,  I've  listed, 


TIIK  WARRIOR'S  FATE.  91 

Weep  not,  neither  mourn  j 
Soon  covered  with  glory 
To  you  I'll  return." 


PART  THIRD. 

• 

XX. 

Through  the  streets  of  famed  Strasburg, 

A  long  column  brave 
Moved,  bearing  a  comrade 

To  the  warrior's  grave. 
The  dark  bier  was  draped 

With  the  flag  he  bore 
Through  the  black  smoke  of  battle, 

The  doomed  line  before. 

XXI. 

When  they  faced  the  grim  foemen, 

The  young  bear  r  grand, 
Fought  well  for  his  country 

With  his  goodly  right  hand ; 
He  defended  his  colors, 

And  when  officers  quailed 
He  cheered  on  the  bold  legion, 

Though  by  battle  smoke  vailed. 

XXII. 

In  the  f,  ont  of  the  battle 

They  saw  hi^  hiir  shine, 
Like  the  crown  of  an  angel, 

Seeming  half  divine  ; 


92  THE  WARRIOR'S  FATE. 

They  folio  ed  t  trusting, 
Confiding  and  bold — 

That  proudly-poised  head 
With  its  halo  of  gold. 

XXIII. 

As  followed  the  comrades 

Of  Henry  of  France, 
(Their  monarch)  bold  pressing 

Where  h.s  snowy  plume  glanced; 
So  followed  the  Prussians 

Young  Karl,  the  brave, 
Lighted  onward  to  triumph 

By  the  glory-bright  waves 

XXIV. 

Of  hair  that  around 

His  kingly  head  si:one. 
To  the  heart  of  the  hero, 

Grim  fear  was  unknown ; 
Oh  bravely  he  fought, 

By  vast  numbers  oppressed ; 
He  must  yield  his  loved  flag 

Or  receive  in  his  breast 

XXV. 

The  weapons  of  death, 

By  grim  foemen  swift  hurled. 
If  lost  were  his  colors, 

What  to  him  was  the  world ; 
For  he  scorned  a  life, 

When  bought  at  the  price 
Of  his  honor  ;  no,  never ! 

Let  his  blood  then  suffice. 


THE  WARRIOR'S  FATE. 

XXVI. 

But  while  in  his  arm 

An  atom  of  strength 
Remained,  his  loved  flag, 

Thouuh  woefully  rent, 
He'd  defend, 

Come  what  may ; 
There  he  stood  like  a  lion 

When  keeping  at  bay 
The  hunters,  though  armed 

With  merciless  steel, 
It  fights  fiercely  on, 
v  Not  seeming  to  feel 
The  pain  of  its  wounds ; 

And  its  last  bitter  groan 
Is  a  growl  of  defiance, 

More  than  a  death-moan. 

XXVII. 

So  stood  noble  Karl, 

Staunch,  keeping  at  bay 
The  host  that  pressed  on  him  ; 

Just  as  he  gave  way, 
Sinking,  wounded  to  death, 

His  comrades  appeared ; 
Too  late  to  the  rescue, 

As  anguished  they  feared. 

XXVIII. 

The  hero  was  dying, 

The  battle  was  won ; 
And  he  smiled  fondly  saying : 

"  Tell  my  father  his  son 


94  THE  WARRIOR'S  PATE. 

Fought  well  his  dear  country's 
Bright  honor  to  save ; 

Tell  him,  Henry,  my  brother, 
Not  to  weep  o'er  my  grave. 

XXIX. 

"  Oh  tell  my  fond  mother, 

That  her  first-born  boy 
Preferred  death  to  dishonor ; 

And,  Henry,  decoy 
From  her  grief  my  poor  Lena j 

To  me  you've  been  true, 
Then  win  her  love,  brother, 

I  give  her  to  you. 

XXX. 

"  But  if  she  clings  unto 

My  memory  then, 
Be  her  Comfort  and  solace, 

Friend,  bravest  of  men  ; 
Tell  Lena  that  to  her 

My  last  thoughts  were  given  ; 
Farewell,  dearest  Henry, 

We'll  all  meet  in  heaven." 

XXXI. 

With  mournful  faces 
And  muffled  drum  beat, 

With  solemn  tread 
Of  the  martial  feet, 

They  bore  him  in  sorrow 
To  the  gloornsome  tomb, 


THE  WARRIOR'S  FATE.  95 

And  many  a  hero 
Wept  over  his  doom. 

XXXII. 

Oh  deep  was  the  grief 

In  each  warrior's  breast ; 
With  unnatural  gloom 

The  band  was  oppressed  ; 
Though  victory  had  crowned 

The  great  German  host, 
Their  loved  color-bearer, 

Forever  was  lost. 

XXXIII. 

No  more  would  the  golden 

Crowned  head  'fore  them  shine, 
No  more  would  they  follow 

Its  guidance  divine; 
No  more  would  the  blue  eyes 

With  hero  light  flash  ; 
Or  ne'er  would  he  wear 

His  well-won  sword  and  sash. 

XXXIV. 

And  Lena,  his  darling, 

Wept  at  the  tomb  ; 
Upbraiding  the  fates 

For  his  untimely  doom  ; 
Sadly  heart-rending  her  cry 

As  she  wailed, 
«  Oh  !  my  Karl, 

Oh  !  why  did  you  die  ?  " 


THE  WARRIOR'S  FATE. 

XXXV. 

But  the  cold  lips  were  mute, 

And  the  azure  eyes  dim, 
That  late  danced  all  joyous  j 

Death  had  chosen  him. 
The  golden  locks  waved 

O'er  the  grand,  noble  brow 
That  late  bore  the  mpress 

Of  beauty  and  thought, 
With  heroic  courage 

And  boyish  pride  fraught. 

XXXVI. 

So  in  silence  and  sorrow, 

They  consigned  to  the  tomb 
The  hero  of  Strasburg, 

In  the  beauty  and  bloom 
Of  manhood,  down-stricken 

By  the  hand  of  grim  death ; 
Leaving  Lena  to  mourn 

With  her  last  sighing  breath. 

XXXVII. 

And  daily  the  maiden 

Doth  visit  the  tomb, 
Bestrewing  it  over 

With  Flora's  sweet  bloom ; 
And  soon  will  she  follow 

Where  Karl  has  flown  ; 
To  the  spirit-land  beauteous, 

Where  grief  is  unknown. 


"  MOHAMMED  !  "     Deathless  till  the  world 

Attains  its  sure,  but  dreaded  end, 
That  name  shall  live.     'Twas  he  unfurled 

The  Islam  standard,  to  defend 
The  which  from  wrong,  from  fell  insult, 

He  raised  a  mighty,  powerful  horde  ; 
And  heathen  nations  'braced  his  faith 

To  'scape  his  dread  death-dealing  sword. 

II. 

It  was  in  happy  Araby, 

Where  rarest  flowers  doth  endless  bloom, 
And  freighted  is  the  balmy  air 

With  the  rich  frankincense  perfume, — 
Where  silv'ry  lakes  and  rosy  bowers, 

The  eyes  of  wondering  man  delight; 
And  like  an  empress  in  her  hall, 

Wearing  her  crown  bf  jewels  bright, 
Or  shrouded  in  a  purple  pall, 

So  proudly  steps  the  queen  of  night. 

III. 

For  she  to  thankless  man  was  given 

To  light  his  path  through  darkness  long ; 
7  (97) 


MOHAMMED. 

By  her  the  storm-wrapt  clouds  are  riven, 
And  round  her  pathway  gayly  throng 

The  stars  in  one  resplendent  train, 
L,ke  maids  of  famed  Sultana's  court, 

That  round  their  mistress  doth  remain ; 
Or  dancing  'fore  her  throne  doth  sport. 

IV. 

Slow,  majestic,  through  the  blue  heaven, 

Queen  Luna  on  her  silver  car 
Sails,  shedding  forth  the  luster  given 

By  Him  whose  eye  doth  see  afar, 
Beyond  the  bounds  of  chaos  space ; 

And  hung  like  lamps  of  gold  above, 
Depending  from  the  concave  sky, 

Bright  glow  the  stars  of  hope  and  love. 

V. 

But  when  the  day  god  proud  doth  rise, 

Mounting  his  car  of  gold  on  high, 
Careering  through  the  eternal  skies, 

Illuming  earth's  arched  canopy; 
Making  this  beauteous  spot  so  bright, 

That  Allah  might  from  heaven  descend, 
Bearing  with  him  his  angel  choirs, 

To  fill  this  glorious,  blessed  land 
With  music  from  their  golden  lyres, 

VI. 

Oh  who  would  ever  dare  to  dream, 
As  gazed  ho  on  this  fairy  scene, 
That  once  this  land  so  beauteous  rare, 
Was  the  abode  of  grim  despair ; 


MOHAMMED.  99 

Where  fathers  slew  their  daughters  young, 
Or  into  graves  them  living  flung; 
A  land  that  was  the  home 
Of  human  vultures  dark  that  roamed 
From  place  to  place  destroying  life, 
Spilling  their  blood  in  useless  strife; 
Where  brother  laid  his  brother  low, 
E'er  deeming  him  his  ruthless  foe, 
Despoiling  him  of  all  his  goods, 
Steeping  his  soul  in  murdered  blood. 

VII. 

Where  chieftains  proud,  green  lizards  ate, 
And  often  famine's  pangs  to  sate, 
The  husband  slew  his  trusting  wife, 
With  her  remains  sustaining  life  ; 
Savage  devouring  flesh  and  blood 
Of  her  who  loved  through  ill  and  good, 
And  ruthless  rent  her  stiffening  corse  ; 
He  loved  her  less  e'en  than  his  horse. 

VIII. 

A  land  where  none  but  Ishmaels  dwelt, 

A  land  that  naught  but  horror  felt, 

A  land  accursed  by  heathen  pride, 

A  land  where  darkness  would  abide 

Despite  the  efforts  of  a  world, 

Till  Islam's  banners  were  unfurled.  , 

IX. 

Ye  Christians,  horrified  behold 
The  worship  of  the  Islam  bold ; 
Ye  mock  the  Koran's  mystic  law, 


100  MOHAMMED. 

In  every  rite  ye  find  a  flaw ; 
Ye  fain  would  shake  Mohammed's  power, 
That  like  Olympian  mountains  tower 
High  o'er  the  heathen  Arab  host, 
That  many  a  Moslem  soul  doth  boast. 

X. 

But  blame  him  not,  God  sent  the  man 
To  change  each  murd'rous  Arab  clan 
From  hi  man  vultures  to  become 
The  followers  of  a  prophet  brave  j 
A  second  Moses  sent  to  save 
A  people  lost  to  God  and  heaven; 
To  teach  the  laws  Allah  had  given. 

XI. 

In  Mecca,  Allah's  sacred  shrine, 

The  prophet  sent  by  will  divine, 

Breathed  his  first,  his  natal  breath ; 

Born  of  the  humblest  parents  'neath 

The  arching  sunlit  Arab  skies, 

In  which  the  Magi  great  descried 

The  star  that  o'er  his  birthplace  shone, 

The  brightest  orb  that  e'er  was  known 

Since  that  rare,  lustrous,  guiding  light, 

That  'lumed  the  primal  Christmas  night ; 

The  star  that  led  the  good,  wise  men, 

THE  GLORIOUS  STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM. 

XII. 

Long,  long  the  Magi  pondered  o'er, 
Long,  silent  praying  stood  before 
The  ATTER,  QUEDAH'S  sacred  flame, 


MOHAMMED.  101 

Then  gave  the  boy  his  wondrous  name, 
"  MOHAMMED  !  "  born  to  never  die, 
While  live  the  waters,  earth  and  sky ; 
And  now  the  Moslem  seals  his  word, 
E'er  by  his  tomb,  long  beard  or  sword. 

XIII. 

'Twas  in  the  month  through  which  prevailed 
Unbroken  peace,  that  he  revealed 
Unto  the  pilgrims,  Gentiles,  Jews, 
Arabs,  Chinese  and  staid  Hindoos, 
The  truths  the  which  he  could  instill 
Into  the  heathen  heart  at  will. 

XIV. 

Wild  was  the  zeal  by  all  displayed  ; 
Bold  huntsman,  free,  fair  mountain  maid, 
To  Islam's  power  low  bowed  their  heads, 
For  Islam  fills  black  hearts  with  dread  ; 
The  turbaned  Turk  and  fiery  Hun, 
For  Islam  did  their  armor  don, 
And  Pashas  from  the  burning  Ind 
Came  with  horsetails  streaming  in  the  wind. 

XV. 

The  Hindoo  proud  forsook  the  wave 
Of  Gunga,  where  so  oft  he  laved 
And  took  the  Koran  for  his  guide, 
Nor  feared  the  wrath  of  Gauge's  tide. 

XVI. 

Long,  long  the  mighty  Khaliph  fought, 
With  grand  success  his  reign  was  fraught ; 


102  MOHAMMED. 

Triumphant  rang  the  glorious  cry, 
That  echoed  to  the  eternal  sky  : 
"Allah,  II  Allah,"  God  is  God, 
Let  infidels  weep  'neath  the  rod 
Of  iron-edged  with  avenging  steel, 
Let  heretics  its  horrors  feel, 
Let  all  who  mock  Mohammed's  word 
Fall  'neath  his  death-bestrewing  sword. 

XVII. 

Kings,  Sultans,  Khaliphs,  Pashas,  all, 
With  bounding  hearts  answered  the  call 
Of  Islam's  strangely  powerful  voice, 
It  made  the  hardest  heart  rejoice ; 
All  yielded  to  Mohammed's  power  ; 
They  vowed  the  Koran  to  obey, 
And  with  the  bright  and  ready  sword, 
For  Islam  fought  till  Jezdegerd, 

XVIII. 

The  lord  of  lords  and  king  of  kings, 
Self-styled  received  with  proud  scornings, 
The  messenger  Mohammed  sent ; 
Shaikh  Maghurah,  who  intent 
On  changing  the  proud  Sultan's  heart, 
Rejoicing  hastened  to  impart 
The  tidings  glad  to  Jezdegerd, 
Who  with  contempt  the  message  heard. 

XIX. 

Then  said  the  monarch  with  disdain, 
With  ruthli  ss  tongue  and  haughty  mien : 
"  Who  is  this  man  that  durst  demand 


MOHAMMED.  103 


From  the  great  lord  of  Persia's  land 
Tribute?    A  namele-s  upstart  he, 
Who  soon  will  craving  mercy  bej 
Cowering  object  at  my  feet, 
Q-o  tell  him  Jezdegerd  doth  greet, 

XX. 

As  Khaliphs  none  but  Khaliphs  born, 
His  religion,  peace,  from  him  I  scorn; 
Shaikh  Maghurah,  false  and  vain 
Is  he  that  boldly  doth  proclaim 
Himself  great  Allah's  prophet  sent 
The  sins  of  men,  or  e'en  prevent 
Them  from  adoring  aught  they  will, 
Sun.  moon  or  stars  or  vernal  hill ; 
Go  tell  your  master,  Jezdegerd 
His  messages  with  scorn  has  heard, 
Tell  him  some  gifts  of  wheat  and  wine, 
He'll  send  the  prophet  now  divine  ; 
But  tribute  he  sh-ill  never  pay, 
Nor  bow  his  head  to  Islam's  sway." 

XXI. 

When  Omar  heard  this  bold  reply, 
With  fiery  wrath  kindled  his  eye  ; 
Unfurling  Islam's  banners  wide, 
Prepared  to  crush  the  Persian's  pride. 
The  Sultan  smiled  with  mocking  laugh, 
He  taunted  Omar,  urged  him  quaff 
The  draught  of  woe  he  held  in  store, 
For  Islam's  chief  he  longed  to  soar 
High  up  to  Fame's  celestial  throne, 
And  on  his  forehead  wear  her  zone. 


104  MOHAMMED. 

XXII. 

But  vain,  vain  was  Jezdegerd's  boast, 

He  met  brave  Omar's  serried  bost, 

And  humbly  bowed  to  Islam's  sway, 

On  the  red  field  "  Cadessia  ;  " 

Jezdegerd  fled  before  his  foes, 

Upon  bis  soul  a  horror  grows 

That  he  should  fall,  become  the  prey 

Of  Islam's  Kbaliph ;  day  by  day 

He  lurked  in  secret  ambush  laid ; 

Few  friends  were  his,  the  Moslem  blade 

Had  awed  the  Persian  hordes  ; 

No  more  they  loved  their  lord  of  lords. 

XXIII. 

At  length  the  wretched,  homeless  king, 

That  once  his  own  praises  could  sing, 

Unto  a  miller  hard  appealed 

For  shelter,  food;  pledges  he  sealed 

With  gifts  of  rare  and  costly  gems, 

That  flashed  once  on  his  diadems. 

The  miller  granted  his  request, 

And  while  he  slumbered,  deep  the  breast 

Of  Persia's  mighty  ruler  pierced 

His  dagger  keen,  avaricious,  fierce, 

And  robbed  the  murdered  corse  so  cold, 

Taking  his  robe  'broidered  with  gold, 

The  jewels  of  his  mantle  wide, 

And  silver  sword  sheath  from  his  side. 

XXIV. 

Thus  died  the  haughty  Jezdegerd, 
Not  by  the  warrior's  flaming  sword, 


MOHAMMED.  105 

But  in  the  dead  of  glooinsome  night, 
The  assassin's  hand  his  soul  set  free, 
And  sent  it  to  eternity ; 
While  Omar  ruled  the  Persian  hordes, 
Their  king  of  kings  and  lord  of  lords. 

XXV. 

The  Moslems  prospered,  and  in  time 

Their  strength  and  power  seemed  half  divine ; 

Thus  Christian  nations  looking  on, 

Oft  wonder  how  such  deeds  are  done ; 

While  nations  rise  and  fall, 

While  ministers  of  the  Gospel  call, 

To  the  Christians  them  to  heed, 

As  lessons  precious  loud  they  read 

From  Christ's  great  book  of  holy  law, 

In  which  the  soul  can  find  no  flaw ; 

They  careless  view  the  beauteous  ray, 

That  lights  of  heaven  the  narrow  way ; 

The  Koran  is  the  Moslem's  guide, 

And  by  its  maxims  they  abide. 


ttwttri). 


i. 


MOSES  VANHOLSTEIN  was  a  Jew, 

And  miser  of  the  old  persuasion; 
One  of  the  rare  and  coward  few, 

That  always  dread  burglar  invasion. 
Rich,  rich  was  he  in  lands  and  gold, 

But  poor  as  Job  in  human  treasure  ; 
Such  as  true  love  for  kindred  friends, 

Or  love  for  heaven's  eternal  pleasures. 

II. 

Oh  but  he  was  a  stingy  knave, 

A  skinflint  granite  is  not  harder 
Than  his  small  heart ;  a  loaf  to  save 

He'd  p:lfer  from  a  neighbor's  larder; 
But  still  he  was  a  GENTLEMAN. 

GOLD  hides  a  multitude  of  failings; 
Fair  damsels  did  our  hero  scan, 

And  gave  him  countless  witching  hailings. 

III. 

Poor,  proud  papas  oft  sought  him  out, 

Inviting  him  to  tea  or  dinner, 
And  rival  sisters  quarreled  about 
(106) 


THE   MISER  OUTWITTED.  107 

Him,  each  desirous  to  be  winner 
Of  Moses'  gold.     Oh  how  he  laughed 

At  them,  their  parents,  and  the  folly 
To  think  he  could  be  caught  with  chaff, 

And  yet  our  friend  was  mighty  jolly. 

IV. 

On  those  occasions,  such  as  when 

Visiting  some  fair  gold-sick  charmer, 
With  appetite  just  three  days  old, 

(So  said  some  young,  gay,  jesting  farmer) 
He  would  discuss  the  viands  and  wines, 

Regardless  of  the  flesh  forbidden  ; 
I  grieve  to  tell  the  mournful  truth, 

He'd  eat  pork  pie  though  lost  was  heaven. 

V. 

And  sausage,  too,  with  sour  krout, 

Such  was  his  willful  inclination  ; 
Besides  the  cheese,  Limburger  famed, 

Made  in  this  Jew's  adopted  nation, 
Until  his  host  would  quake  with  fear, 

For  a  skilled  M.  D.  anx:ous  sending; 
But  Moses  staunch  would  bravely  bear 

The  burden,  e'er  triumphant  ending. 

VI. 

Now  Moses  was  no  more  a  fool 

Than  you  or  I,  my  gentle  reader, 
In  fashion's  van,  in  Mammon's  school 

At  Grecnvale  he  was  social  leader ; 
Ere  forty  years  had  w:th  their  change, 

Their  storms  and  sunshine  passed  o'er  him, 


108  THE  MISER  OUTWITTED. 

Four  gentle  brides  had  flown  away, 
And  still  poor  Moses  saw  before  him 

VII. 

Some  hope  of  sweet  connubial  bliss. 

Love  in  his  flinty  heart  held  swaying, 
And  loveliness  need  not  be  his 

While  such  fair  maids  were  him  waylaying  j 
Yet  he  resisted  all  his  wiles, 

Again  he  feared  to  try  and  marry  ; 
"  For  where's  the  use  of  having  wives, 

If  they  in  life  refuse  to  tarry?" 

VIII. 

At  length  a  Christian  friend  who  lived 

Upon  the  isle  of  famed  Manhattan, 
Invited  Moses  soon  to  come 

And  see  his  daughter  Flora  Alton. 
Miss  Alton  was  a  lovely  maid, 

The  skies  of  heaven  were  never  bluer 
Than  her  bright  eyes  ;  the  amber  shade 

Of  her  rich  curls  as  gold  was  pure. 

IX. 

"  The  fairest  maid  that  ever  trod 

The  earth,"  so  said  our  Greenvale  miser; 
Ah !  had  he  known  what  soon  he  learned, 

His  course,  I  ween,  it  had  been  wiser. 
The  match  was  made,  the  pair  were  wed, 

Moses  brought  home  his  lov.-ly  treasure ; 
Albeit  poor  Flora  shook  her  head, 

And  bade  farewell  to  future  pleasure. 


THE  MISER  OUTWITTED.  109 

X. 

'Twas  evening  of  a  summer's  day, 

Flora  Vanholstein,  pale  with  sorrow, 
Stood  all  alone  within  a  room, 

(Whose  very  furniture  would  harrow 
The  heart  of  one,  less  used  to  wealth 

Than  she)  her  eyes  of  azure  softly  shedding 
Tears  of  unheard  of  undreamt  woe ; 

Her  life's  dark  curse  had  been  her  wedding 

XL 

With  one  so  far  beneath  herself 

In  moral  likewise  mental  culture ; 
An  angel  she  in  woman's  guise, 

He  was  a  grasping  human  vulture. 
The  setting  sun  upon  her  shone, 

Around  her  dainty  head  a  halo 
Of  amber  ringlets  bright  were  blown; 

Divinely  fair  despite  the  shadow 

XII. 

That  rested  on  her  polished  brow. 

Flora  Vanholstein  yielded  duty 
Unto  her  cruel  tyrant  lord  ; 

Slow  fading  was  her  peerless  beauty. 
"  Vlora,  mein.frow,"  in  accents  thick 

And  harsh  the  words  were  to  her  borne, 
Then  with  a  sigh  at  once  heart-sick, 

Back  to  her  life  of  woe  she  turned. 

XHL 

"  Now  vat  you  vant  5  mit  grying, 
Like  von  schild  of  two  year  old  ? 


110  THE  MISER  OUTWITTED. 

Vat  your  tired  out  mit  living  ? 

Go  dead,  fast  ish  your  fader's  gold, 
All  your  lands  are  in  my  keeping, 

All  your  rnoonish  ish  in  bank ; 
Four  rich  frows  haf  gone  before  you, 

Follow  dem,  I  vill  you  dank. 

XIV. 
"Dere  are  oder  pooty  miidchens,  (girls) 

Dey  vould  gladly  marry  me, 
One  of  dem  I'll  choos,  my  lady, 

Shust  so  soon  as  I  am  free. 
Go  you  now  und  bring  my  supper ; 

Hark!  whose  calling?  Vlora  dear, 
Ach  Got !  my  frow  ish  crazy, 

Running  down  the  hall."     (So  drear.) 

XV. 

Flo'  Wyndham,  darling  sister, 

Of  my  love  and  weary  heart, 
Welcome  to  my  heart  though  wretched. 

From  you  never  more  I'll  part. 
The  new-comer  was  a  lady 

Just  twenty  years,  no  more, 
Tall,  dusk-faced,  dark-eyed,  slender, 

Graceful  formed  as  friend  of  yore, 

XVI. 

Fearless  as  a  young  knight  errant, 

Chafing  ever  at  delay ; 
Young  Miss  Wyndham  was  a  lady 

That  would  have  her  own  sweet  way, 
Over  Moses'  Teutonic  figure, 


THE  MISER  OUTWITTED.  Ill 

Her  bright  eyes  derisive  passed, 
Then  in  tones,  clear  and  ringing 
As  the  bugle's  sweet  notes,  asked  : 

XVII. 

"  Friend,  what  are  your  politics  ? 

For  whom  are  you  going  to  vote? 
Is  it  for  Grant  or  Greeley? 

For  my  part,  I  honor  both." 
For  a  moment  Moses  frowning 

Viewed  the  dazzling  fairy  bright, 
Then  in  tones  harsh  as  an  owl's  hoot 

He  responded,  angry  light 

XVIII. 

Blazing  in  his  eyes  of  green-gray 

Hue,  just  like  a  cat's  : 
"  I  votes  dat  now  you  leaves  us, 

Mit  your  feathers,  fuss  und  hats ; 
You  comes  to  see  von  poor  mans, 

To  keeps  you  I  can't  afford, 
So  you  had  better  go  home, 

Hasten  now  de  train  to  board." 

XIX. 

"Keep  me  !  "  cried  the  taunting  houri, 

"  Why,  you  blockhead,  I've  a  charm 
By  which  I  can  live  and  flourish 

On  the  air;    don't  look  alarmed, 
I  ne'er  touch  the  food  of  mortals, 

Man,  I've  found  a  ma^ic  way 
That  to  live  and  thrive  costs  nothing 

But  the  will  the  ghost  to  lay." 


112  THE  MISER  OUTWITTED. 

XX. 

"  Vat  ghost?  "  asked  he  bewildered. 

"  Why  the  ghost  of  appetite  ; 
And  now  that  I  need  not  supper, 

I'll  be  saying  you  good-night." 
Away  they  went,  those  lovely  Floras, 

One  so  dark,  the  other  fair ; 
She,  who  fed  on  mortal  rations, 

And  the  one  wuo  lived  on  air. 

XXI. 

"Are  you  mad  ?"  gasped  timid  Flora, 

"Moses  this  will  not  believe." 
"  Won't  he  ?  "  laughed  Miss  Wyndham, 

"  To  me  this  matter  leave." 
Next  morn'  our  charmed  charmer 

Bright  and  early  left  her  room, 
Her  eyes  resplendent  glowing, 

And  her  olive  cheeks  a-bloom. 

XXII. 

Moses  watched  her  airy  movements, 

And  he  wondered  in  his  heart 
If  one  so  strangely  lovely, 

Could  exist  on  magic  art. 
Secretly  he  searched  her  chamber, 

And  her  trunks  invaded  too  ; 
But  no  hidden  food  unto  him 

Was  revealed.     Perplexed  the  Jew 

XXIII. 

Watched  and  waited,  unrewarded 
Was  his  vigilance  and  care  ; 


THE  MISER  OUTWITTED.  113 

All  unconscious  of  his  danger, 

He  was  falling  in  a  snare. 
So  the  days  flew  on,  unheeded 

By  the  Floras,  both  intent 
On  some  strange,  mystic  proceeding, 

Each  the  other  comfort  lent. 

XXIV. 

Suddenly  Flora  Vanholstein 

Laid  her  down,  sick  unto  death, 
Fainter  daily  grew  her  pulses, 

Fainter  still  her  fragrant  breath; 
So  the  learned,  aged  physician 

Vowed  his  patient  could  not  live, 
And  he  ceased  the  Lodge  to  visit, 

And  his  bitter  pills  to  give. 

XXV. 

Bright  Flo'  Wyndham  ever  tender, 

Cared  for  Moses  and  his  wife  j 
Seeing  that  his  meals  were  ready 

Punctual;  and  o'er  Flora's  life 
Kept  she  faithful  watch  and  constant, 

Death,  grim  monster,  for  to  scare ; — 
But  one  night  he  claimed  her  darling, 

Claimed  her  friend  so  brightly  fair. 

XXVI. 

Moses  mourned  not  his  treasure, 

Another  bride  he  had  in  view, 
And  he  deemed  her  proof  'gainst  illness, 

So  he  from  the  presence  drew. 


THE  MISER  OUTWITTED. 

Flo'  hung  o'er  the  lifeless  Flora, 

Robed  her  for  her  final  rest; 
Then  to  gaze  upon  the  sweet  face, 
-Heartless  Moses  sore  she  pressed. 

XXVII. 

Said  he  to  her  long  entreaty : 

"All  my  frows  dey  vants  to  die, 
Und  I  dells  dem  shust  to  do  so, 

Den  dey  mope  und  grieve  und  cry; 
Ven  dey  weary  of  de  pasdimes, 

Dey  all  goes  in  de  bett, 
Und  dey  pine  away  mit  sorrow 

Till  at  last  dey  all  go  deat. 

XXVIII. 

"Veil,  I  goes  to  find  anodor, 

I  can  nodings  do  but  try  ; 
Ven  again  I  marry, 

I  vill  win  one  vat  don'd  cry ; 
So  you  shust  nails  down  the  coffin, 

Make  it  tight  und  fast, 
I  feels  sick  till  she's  buried, 

If  she  vakes  my  joy  ish  past." 

XXIX. 

In  the  eyes  of  fond  Flo'  Wyndham 
Flashed  a  deadly,  scornful  light, 

And  her  lips  of  coral  wreathed 
Into  smiles  most  strangely  bright, 

Half  of  pity,  half  derision, 
Mingled  with  a  flash  of  hate; 


THE  MISER  OUTWITTED.  115 

Moses  oft  recalled  tho  vision, 

Alas  for  him !  when  'twas  too  late. 

XXX. 

• 
Soon  the  grave  of  lovely  Flora 

Vanholstein  was  made,  and  then, 
'Mid  the  mourning  of  her  neighbors, 

Low  the  wronged  young  wife  was  lain  j 
Then  with  an  aged  companion, 

Flo'  Wyndham  slow  returned 
To  the  Lodge  to  find  its  master 

Jovial  and  unconcerned. 

XXXI. 

"Vat!  my  dear,  now  must  you  leaves  me 

All  alone,  mitoud  von  friend?  " 
"No!"  cried  Flo',  UI  stay  to  cheer  you 

Till  the  summer  gains  its  end." 
Moses,  you  may  vow,  was  happy 

In  the  capture  of  the  maid  ; 
For  never  on  his  larder  dear, 

Or  orchard  M  ould  she  raid. 

XXXII. 

Flo'  was  blithe  and  full  of  mischief, 

As  frolicsome  magpies ; 
Yet  she  held  her  aged  admirer 

At  a  distance  with  her  eyes; 
When  they  flashed  in  anger  on  him, 

He  was  humble  as  a  slave, 
And  oft  to  hear  her  singing, 

Very  meekly  he  would  crave. 


116  THE  MISER  OUTWITTED. 

XXXIII. 

But  love  is  a  daring  fellow, 

And  he  made  our  hero  bold ; 
So  one  evening,  with  much  terror, 

To  Flo'  Wyndham  thus  he  told : 
"I  bees  rich,  I've  heaps  of  moonish, 

All  vill  I  gif  to  you 
If  you  vill  mit  me  marry, 

And  to  me  be  efer  true." 

XXXIV. 

"Marry  you!"  exclaimed  the  lady, 

With  her  black  eyes  flashing  fire ; 
"  Why,  you  blockhead,  are  you  crazy, 

Thus  to  rouse  my  sleeping  ire? 
That  you're  rich  I  take  for  granted, 

But  ere  long  you  will  be  poor ; 
You  will  roam  without  a  shelter. 

Turned  from  this  very  door. 

XXXV. 

"For  <f  all  the  heedless  spendthrifts, 

You're  the  greatest  'twas  my  chance 
To  see  ;  oft  I  shudder 

At  your  mad  extravagance; 
I  would  gladly  make  you  happy, 

But  a  man  I'll  never  wed 
Till  he  triumphs  o'er  his  nature, 

Till  he  lives  on  air,  not  bread." 

XXXVL 

"  Oh  I  can  nefer  do  dis  fastings, 
It  ish  so  very  hard  ; 


THE  MISER  OUTWITTED.  117 

I  vould  surely  in  de  trial 

To  kills  hunger,  slowly  starve." 
"Coward!  theu  you  never  loved  me, 

I  will  leave  this  very  night, 
For  I  scorn  the  man  that  dare  not 

CONQUER  HIS  OWN  APPETITE." 

XXXVII. 

"  No,  pooty  von,  don'd  leaves  me, 

I  vill  make  de  trial  so : 
If  I  succeeds  den  you  loves  me, 

If  I  fails  I  die,  I  know." 
"  How  are  you  to-day,  dear  Moses  ?  " 

Soft  as  coo  of  turtle-dove, 
Came  the  words  from  strange  Flo'  Wyadham, 

As  bending  anxiously  above 

XXXVIII. 

The  couch  whereon  the  miser 

Lay,  slow  dying  by  degrees, 
In  his  thirst  for  wealth  and  beauty, 

He  renounced  both  bread  and  cheese. 
She  fixed  her  black  eyes  keenly 

On  his  thin  and  haggard  face; 
WeJ  she  knew  that  further  fasting 

Would  end  his  life's  dark  race. 

f 

XXXIX. 

"  Veaker,  veaker,"  sighed  the  poor  wretch, 

•'I  grows  veaker  efry  day, 
Vlo'.  inein  pooty  von,  dis  fastings 

Don'd  begin  at  all  to  pay." 
"  Nons"ii^e ! "  cried  tho  dazzling  creature, 


118  THE  MISER  OUTWITTED. 

"  You've  fasted  now  three  days, 
Two  more  then  the  charm  is  perfect; 
With  thorn  come  wealth  and  ease. 

XL. 

"  But  lest  you  should  be  tempted 

To  indulge  in  former  tastes, 
Here  are  papers,  deeds  that  make  me 

Mistress  of  your  vast  estates ; 
You  must  sign  them  in  the  presence 

Of  your  lawyer,  Mr.  Hare." 
"  Nefer !  nefer !  vicked  schemer ; 

Oh  I  vender  how  you  dare 

XLI. 

"  Say  such  tings  to  me  ?  Great  Fader, 
Haf  I  fallen  in  a  snare? 

'Tis  my  moonish,  not  my  love, 
Vat  you  vants  ;  I  say  get  oud." 

"Very  well,  my  dearest  Moses," 
And  the  lovely  creature  bowed; 

XLII. 

"  But  before  I  Jcave  you,  Moses, 

Read  those  papers  with  calm  mind ; 
'Tis  to  Mrs.  Flora  Vanholstein, 

That  I  wish  the  fortune  signed." 
"Oh!  my  love,  come  kiss  me  pardon, 

I  vas  mad  mit  shealous  rage ; 
Vat  a  fool  I  bees,  my  sweet  von, 

Vile  you  ish  a  great  sage." 

XLIII. 
"When  my  name  is  Flo'  Vanholstein, 


THE  MISER  OUTWITTED.  119 

I  will  give  my  lord  salutes ; 
Now  I  must  go  and  do  the  milking, 

For  the  market  prepare  fruits." 
To  the  kitchen  flew  our  heroine, 

And  ere  long  a  royal  feast 
Was  in  progress  of  preparing, 

Fit  for  a  Sahib  of  the  East. 

XLIV. 

And  when  the  viands  were  ready, 

To  Moses'  chamber  gay  she  hied, 
And  laid  out  the  tempting  dinner 

Near  the  famished  wretch's  side; 
Then  without  a  word  of  warning, 

Down  the  cruel  beauty  sat; 
Then  began  to  feast  with  relish, 

Soon,  "Ach  Got !  now  vat  ish  dat? 

XLV.   , 

"  Surely,  Vlo',  you  eats  no  such  tings." 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  indeed  I  do, 
And  I  never  saw  an  idiot 

Til!  the  day  I  met  with  you." 
"  But  oh  !  my  pooty  darling, 

You  gon  not  eat  so  much, 
Gif  me  von  little  morsel  or  I'll  die, 

I'll  die  in  such 

XLVL 

"  Horrid  torment ;  oh  you  can  not 

Eats  it  all,  gif  me  a  bit." 
"  Yes,  and  more  if  I  had  it,  Moses, 

Ten  times  more  if  I  had  it." 
'•'•More  if  I  had  it"  shrieked  the  miser, 


120  THE  MISER  OUTWITTED. 

Falling  forward  in  a  fit; 
"  More  if  I  had  it,  if  I  had  it, 
Ten  times  more  if  I  had  it." 

XLVIL 

For  a  doctor  and  a  lawyer 

Sent  Flo'  Wyndham  quickly  then, 
And  removing  her  fine  dinner, 

Waited  patient  for  the  men. 
First  the  lawyer  at  the  bedside 

Of  poor  Moses  did  appear; 
And  in  answer  to  Flo's  question, 

"Is  he  sane?  "  "Yes,  very  clear." 

XLVIIL 

"He  desires  to  deed  unto  me 

All  his  wealth  in  lands  and  gold ; 
That  in  case  of  legal  trouble, 

I  his  fortune  vast  may  hold." 
"  Then  this  man  you  mean  to  marry?" 

"How  else  could  I  wear  his  name?" 
"True;  I  beg  your  pardon,  lady, 

Bring  your  witness,  I'll  remain." 

XLIX. 
"With  my  client."     "Sir,"  addressing 

The  starved  sufferer  on  the  couch, 
"  Do  you  wish  to  give  your  riches 

To  this  lady  ?  Can  you  vouch 
For  her  honesty,  my  dear  sir? 

Will  you  deed  her  every  bit 
Of  your  gold?"    "Yes,"  cried  the  poor  wretch, 

"  Und  ten  times  more  if  I  had  it." 


THE  MISER  OUTWITTED.  121 

L. 

"Are  you  sure  you'll  not  repent  you 

Of  this  action  in  one  whit?  f 

'Gain,  will  you  give  her  all  your  riches  ?  " 

"Yes,  und  more  if  I  had  it." 
"  Heavens  !  how  the  man  must  love  you," 

Said  the  learned  man  of  law ; 
Then  he  read  the  legal  papers, 

That  he  might  repair  each  flaw. 

LI. 

Flo'  Wyndham  felt  like  laughing 

At  the  lawyer's  words  sincere, 
But  repressed  the  pert  emotion, 

Not  appearing  him  to  hear. 
Well,  the  deeds  were  signed,  witnessed 

And  given  to  the  maid, 
And  Flo'  Wyndham  to  the  lawyer. 

With  politeness  thusly  said  : 

LII. 

"  Sir,  I  thank  you  for  your  service, 

Soon  I  think  my  friend  will  rise 
From  this  couch  of  sudden  illness ; 

For  suffering  he  doth  despise. 
Now,  good-day,  when  e'er  desired 

Is  your  service,  I  shall  send, 
And  remember  'tis  your  best  plcm 

To  always  be  my  friend." 

LIII. 

"  Was  there  ever  such  an  idiot  ? 
Here  Miss  Wyndham  dares  to  claim 


122  THE  MISER  OUTWITTED. 

Herr  Vanholstein's  vast  riches, 
When  not  mentioned  is  her  name. 

Madame  Flo'  you're  very  foolish 
This  nonsense  more  to  press 

To  his  wife,  and  not  betrothed 
Are  those  documents  addressed." 

LIV. 

Standing  in  a  crowded  court-room, 

With  Mrs.  Briggs  close  at  her  side, 
Was  the  maid  whom  Herr  Vanholstein 

Sought  to  make  his  hride. 
Her  little,  aged  companion, 

Trembling,  nervous  stood  ; 
And  on  Flo's  cheek  fierce  burning, 

Glowed  the  fiery  Spanish  blood. 

LV. 

Turning  to  her  small  companion, 

Flo'  in  ringing  accents  said : 
"  In  disguise,  adopted  sister, 

Long  enough  now  have  you  staid." 
From  the  head  of  the  poor  lady 

Fell  cap  and  false  gray  front, 
From  her  eyes  she  took  the  glasses, 

Then  the  bench  she  did  confront. 

LVI. 

As  she  did,  in  amber  billows 
Fell  her  hair  of  shining  gold 

To  her  waist.     FLORA  VANHOLSTEIN 
Clung  to  her  pustainer  bold. 

"  Mein  fi  ow  comes  here  to  mock  me, 


THE  MISER  OUTWITTED.  123 

From  her  deep,  deep  grave  ; 
Keeps  her  from  me,  keeps  her  from  me, 
From  her  spirit's  wrath  me  save," 

LVII. 

Cried  the  wretched  Greenvale  miser ; 

Then  he  turned  away  to  fly, 
But  he  fell,  o'ercome  with  terror, 

'Mid  horror's  pangs  to  die. 
Flo'  looked  on  calm,  untroubled, 

By  the  scene  of  wretched  death ; 
And  she  smiled  when  Herr  Vanholstein 

Drew  his  last  o'er-tortured  breath. 

LVIII. 

Then  in  tones  of  bugle  clearness, 

The  proud  one  her  story  told  j 
How  she  came  to  see  her  schoolmate, 

And  the  miser  husband  old. 
Then  she  painted  such  a  picture 

Of  dark  woe  and  despair, 
Suffered  by  poor  Flora, 

That  no  eye  undimmed  was  there. 

LIX. 

Then,  she  said,  with  mischief  gleamings 

Shooting  from  her  dusky  eyes  : 
"  I  contrived  a  scheme  and  cheated 

Moses  out  of  his  rich  prize ; 
I  drugged  his  wife  and  told  him 

That  his  young  bride  was  no  more, 
Whereupon  he  sought  to  win  me; 

But  as  Blue  Bear )  did  of  yore, 


124  .  THE  MISER  OUTWITTED. 

LX. 

"  He  had  met  his  match  in  cunning, 

I  cajoled  him  with  my  wiles, 
Till  he'd  do  what  e'er  1  asked  him 

For  a  few  electric  smiles. 
Believing  that  I'd  wed  him, 

To  his  wife  he  did  secure 
All  his  lands  and  goods,  thus  leaving 

Himself  somehow  very  poor. 

LXI. 

"All  this  tiire  his  wife  in  disguise 

Remained  beneath  his  roof; 
If  you  wish,  I  cau  bring  forward 

Other  most  excellent  proof." 
u  No  further  proof  is  needed," 

Said  the  judge,  with  smiling  face, 
As  he  gazed  upon  the  Floras, 

Marking  their  peerless  grace. 

LXIL 

Strangely  fair  and  brilliant 

Were  those  two  houries  bright  ; 
One  as  dark  as  Spanish  lady,    • 

One  as  Saxon  princess  bright. 
Flora  with  her  blue  eyes  shining 

Through  a  mist  of  happy  tears, 
Murmured  :  "  Flo',  my  friend,  my  sister, 

Vanished  now  have  all  my  fears ; 

LXIII. 

"  Never  more  need  I  to  tremble 
With  that  strange,  unholy  dread." 


THE  MISER  OUTWITTED.  125 

"  No,  for  now  you  are  a  widow," 

And  Flo'  Wyndham  shook  her  head. 

Two  months  later  Flo'  was  married 
To  a  gallant  son  of  Mars, 

Who  had  won,  for  daring  actions, 
Flashing  shoulder  straps  and  stars. 

LXIV. 

And  Flora,  notwithstanding 

Her  first  experience  so  hard, 
Gave  her  heart  and  hand  and  fortune 

To  a  noble-gifted  bard  ; 
And  together  ever  loving 

Dwells  each  Flora  and  her  mate, 
Blessed  and  happy,  seldom  sighing 

O'er  Vanholstein's  gloom-wrapt  fate. 


i. 

GENTLY  passing,  gently  passing, 

Is  the  golden  autumn  dear. 
And  the  leaves  are  falling,  falling, 

From  the  branches  brown  and  sear; 
And  as  down  they  silent  flutter, 

In  their  fall  a  voiceless  woe 
Seems  to  tell  of  long  past  pleasure, 

Joys  forgotten  years  ago. 

II. 

As  the  leaves  so  mutely  falling, 

Through  the  casement  I  behold  ; 
Leaves  that  with  the  tempest  sported, 

Leaves  once  crimson,  green  and  gold; 
Then  methinks  of  fallen  heroes, 

From  their  lofty  pennons  thrown, 
Heroes  like  the  great  Napoleon, 

To  whom  fear  was  e'er  unknown. 

III. 

Yes,  the  falling  leaves  are  emblems 
Of  that  haughty,  warlike  one, 

Who  from  sunny  France's  rulers, 

Snatched  the  proud,  imperial  throne; 

Who  defied  the  law  of  nations, 
(126) 


PALLING  LEAVES.  127 

Scorning  all  that's  true  and  good, 

Seeking  lame  and  adulation 
Till  his  soul  was  steeped  in  blood ; 

IV. 
Till  the  wreck  of  slaughtered  legions, 

'Riched  the  dry  and  barren  earth, 
And  the  soil  once  grim  and  gory, 

To  the  winegrape  now  gives  birth ; 
Till  the  curse  of  hapless  widows, 

Freighted  more  by  orphans'  tears, 
Brought  the  wrath  of  God  upon  him, 

In  the  winter  of  his  years. 

V. 

Thus  the  man  who  held  a  scepter, 

Seated  on  a  lordly  throne, 
Lingered  out  his  life  remaining 

In  a  British  prison  lone ; 
With  no  loving  one  to  cheer  him, 

Or  to  soothe  his  hours  of  pain  j 
Oh,  his  life  it  must  be  weary, 

As  he  lay  there  crushed  in  chains. 

VI. 

Yes,  the  leaves  so  silent  falling, 

Falling  to  the  darksome  earth  ;  ? 

Flung  from  off  the  parent  branches, 

Where  kind  nature  gave  them  birth ; 
Doth  remind  us  of  the  weakness 

Of  frail  mortals  here  below, 
And  that  naught  but  love  and  meekness, 

Us  the  realms  of  bliss  can  show. 


A*  1011s 


i. 

THERE  are  Dolly  Varden  dresses, 

That  delight  each  lady's  heart, 
Dolly  Varden  hats  and  tresses, 

Greatest  triumph  of  the  art ; 
Every  thing  that's  new  is  Varden, 

Be  it  bonnet,  frock  or  fan ; 
But,  girls,  did  you  e'er  encounter 

The  true  Dolly  Varden  Man  ? 

II. 

Do  not  start  in  well-bred  wonder, 

The  article  is  scarce,  I  know ; 
Few  of  our  belles  so  charming, 

Can  say,  "  He  is  my  beau." 
He  is  hard  to  find  as  diamonds 

Made  after  nature's  primal  plan; 
Oh  he  is  a  God-sent  blessing, 

This  rare  Dolly  Varden  Man. 

III. 

He  is  not  a  son  of  Mammon, 

All  the  gold  is  in  his  heart ; 
He  is  not  the  slave  of  fashion, 
(128) 


THE  DOLLY  VAEDEN  MAN.  129 

Kindness  is  the  only  art 
To  which  he  resorts,  and  honor 

Marks  this  leader  in  life's  van; 
For  the  helpless  and  the  friendless, 

Trust  the  Dolly  Varden  Man. 

IV. 

You'll  not  know  him  by  big  seal  rings 

That  on  dandy  fingers  flash, 
You'll  not  know  him  by  sweet  perfumes, 

Or  foppish  show  or  dash ; 
Nor  by  tones  so  oft  illusive, 

Which  so  many  triflers  can 
Use  to  cheat  fond,  trusting  maidens— 

The  true  Dolly  Varden  Man 

V. 

Scorns  such  ignoble  conquests ; 

Once  in  life  he  wooes  to  wed ; 
Crowned  with  sense,  and  not  beavers, 

Is  his  noble,  kingly  head  ; 
Friend  and  brother  of  the  needy, 

Oh,  that  every  maiden  can 
Say  with  pride,  "  My  lover  truly 

Is  a  Dolly  Varden  Man." 


laitrt. 


i. 

OH  my  heart  is  sadly  breaking, 

Breaking  with  an  anguished  pain, 
Never  more  can  I  recover 

My  lost  peace  of  mind  again  ;  , 

She  was  false  and  she  was  fickle, 

As  the  changing  wind  that  blows ; 
But  I  loved  the  radiant  beauty, 

Radiant  as  the  royal  rose. 

II. 

Pretended  was  her  great  love  for  me, 

Another  heart  held  hers  enthroned, 
Within  its  depths,  she  toying  coyly 

Taught  me  to  call  the  gem  my  own. 
Slave  of  her  caprice,  long  I  lingered 

At  the  cruel  beauty's  side, 
And,  no  longer  sane,  I  madly 

Pleaded  her  to  be  my  bride. 

III. 

She  laughed  to  scorn  my  passioned  speeches, 

Angry  flashed  her  azure  eyes ; 
Bade  me  unlearn  the  lovo  she  taught  me, 

Lessons  that  till  death  I'll  prize. 
For  me  life's  dream  of  love  is  ended, 
(130) 


LOVE'S  DYING  PLAINT.  131 

My  heart  is  dying  day  by  day, 
My  soul  chafes  in  its  mortal  prison, 
And  pants  from  earth  to  flee  away. 

IV. 

No  longer  shall  I  here  a-linger, 

To  endure  this  cruel  pain ; 
Never  more  shall  I  rejoicing 

Breathe  my  vows  to  her  again. 
Oft  I'm  dreaming  of  the  false  love, 

What  time  the  young  moon  softly  gleams, 
'Luming  earth  and  sky  and  river 

With  her  silv'ry  crescent  beams. 

V. 

What  time  the  flowers  sweetly  slumber 

'Neath  the  azure-arching  sky, 
And  the  night-bird  tender  warbles 

Serenades  to  his  mate  a -nigh; 
And  I  dream  of  her  as  loving, 

With  a  true,  undying  love, 
Cheering  me  and  gently  guiding 

Toward  the  realms  of  light  above. 

VI. 

And  my  soul  o'er-anguished  yearns, 
Yearns  to  soar  unbound  and  free, 

Through  the  mist  of  space,  e'er  watching, 
False  and  fickle  one,  o'er  thee ; 

For  my  heart  is  sadly  breaking, 
With  a  cruel,  dying  pain, 

Oh  never  more  can  I  recover 
My  sweet  peace  of  mind  again. 


tm. 


i. 


A  FARMER,  yes  lie  is,  don't  faint, 

The  idea  seems,  I  know, 
Preposterous,  that  a  belle  like  me 

Should  have  a  country  beau. 

II. 

But  ere  in  anger  you  condemn 

Me  as  a  siliy  girl, 
For  having  thrown  myself  away, 

Upon  a  country  churl ; — 

III. 

Remember  that  my  heart  was  sick, 

And  wearied  to  the  core, 
Of  listening  to  the  perfumed  fops 

That  courted  me  before. 

IV. 

They  vowed  they  loved  me  more  than  life, 

Those  brainless  dandies  gay, 
But  when  they  thought  my  wealth  was  gone, 

Like  mists  they  passed  away. 
(132) 


MY  COUNTRY  BEAU  133 

V. 

My  lawyer  kind  at  my  behest, 

The  rumor  circled  round, 
That  in  a  speculation  vast, 

My  thousands  all  were  drowned. 

VI. 

A  district  school  I  taught  awhile, 

My  ruse  was  sure  you  know, 
For  ere  the  golden  Autumn  came 

I  met  my  country  beau. 

VII. 

As  through  the  fragrant  fields  one  eve 

We  roved,  in  accents  low 
He  breathed  forth  his  tale  of  love, 

My  whole-souled  country  beau. 

VIII. 

Now,  not  for  all  the  gifted  men 

Your  cities  vain  can  show, 
Would  I  exchange  my  heart's  sole  prince, 

My  sun-bronzed  country  beau. 


i. 

*         0  SUMMER  !  beautiful  Summer, 

Once  more  thou  art  drawing  near, 
Brightest  of  all  the  seasons, 

Queen  of  the  fast-flowing  year ; 
In  thy  mantle  of  vernal  richness, 

And  crown  of  roses  wine-red, 
'Fore  Sol,  thine  too  ardent  lover, 

Thou  dost  blushingly  bow  thy  head. 

II. 

0  Summer  !  beautiful  Summer, 

Like  many  a  maiden  fair, 
Thou  dreamest  not  of  the  coming 

Autumn  brown  and  sear  ; 
To  thee  thy  lover's  fond  glances 

Doth  heaven's  pure  joys  unfold, 
But,  Summer,  they'll  silver  thy  tresses, 

That  are  lighter  than  fairy-spun  gold. 

III. 

0  Summer  !  beautiful  Summer, 

In  thy  dreamy  loveliness  rare, 
In  the  wealth  of  lilies  and  roses, 
(134) 


BEAUTIFUL  SUMMER.  135 

That  are  scattered  everywhere ; 
In  thy  breath  of  perfumed  sweetness, 

And  voice  of  music  low, 
In  thine  eyes  of  lustrous  splendor 

Is  told  a  tale  of  woe. 

IV. 

And  the  tale  is  of  short-lived  pleasures, 

Of  beauty  whose  reign  is  soon  o'er, 
Of  how  worthless  are  earth's  richest  pleasures, 

When  we  reach  death's  shadowy  shore ; 
For  wealth,  nor  beauty,  nor  greatness 

Can  evade  that  last  dread  decree, 
'Tis  the  soul's  peerless  beauty,  unsullied 

By  sin,  that  from  us  can  not  flee. 


i. 

THE  golden  Autumn  days  are  here, 
The  sau'dest,  brightest  of  the  year; 

O'er  earth  a  m  ;ntle  brown, 
Tinged  with  the  rainbow's  gorgeous  dyes, 
Glowing  and  beauteous  from  the  skies, 

Is  flung  in  grandeur  down. 

II. 

The  rose  no  longer  proudly  blooms, 
Delightsome  with  her  rich  perfumes, 

Faded  in  beauty's  prime  ; 
The  lily's  royal  head  in  death 
Is  bowed,  and  fled  her  fragrant  breath, 

Sad  proofs  of  fleeting  time. 

III. 

The  feathered  songsters  in  the  grove, 
Breathe  forth  their  farewell  songs  of  lovej 

They  love  their  northern  home, 
And  soon  afar  in  favored  lands, 
Untouched  by  Winter's  freezing  hands, 

Rejoicing  they  will  roam. 

IV. 

The  glowing  tints  the  woods  display, 
Foreshadow  naught  but  fell  decay  ; 

The  brightest  skies  of  Autumn  morn, 
Though  blue  as  Lerna's  crystal  breast, 
(136) 


0 
DEPARTING  FRIENDS.  137 

And  bright  as  Jove's  bejeweled  crest, 
Are  harbingers  of  storm. 

V. 

When  warbling  birds  and  fragrant  flowers, 
And  vines  that  gem  my  summer  bowers, 

Are  from  my  vis. on  flown, — 
The  sole  companions  of  my  life ; 
How  shall  I  face  its  daily  strife, 

Unaided  and  alone  ? 

VI. 

Alone,  no  friends  but  these  have  I, 
For  in  them  Hope  and  Faith  I  spy 

The  friends  that  nature  gives; 
And  in  her  friends  I  see  the  sign 
Of  God  who  promised  rest  divine, 

To  those  who  trusting  lives. 

VII. 

Deserted  by  them  I  bemoan 

My  fate,  and  yearn  with  them  to-  roam 

When  summer  reigns  in  beauty. 
The  bravest  heart  when  lonely  left, 
Of  kindred  friends  and  joy  bereft, 

Breaks  while  it  does  its  duty. 

VIII. 

But  this  alone  keeps  from  despair, 

The  heart  o'er-wrouglit  by  grievous  care ; 

When  life's  wild  storms  are  over, 
Beyond  this  vale  of  falling  tears, 
When  Time  has  sped  a  few  short  years, 

Heaven's  joys  await  the  rover. 


i. 


WHEN  fickle  fortune  grimly  frowns 

On  you,  her  mortal  devotee, 
And  crushes  'neath  her  cruel  wheel, 

Your  dreams  of  great  prosperity, — 
Never  falter,  never  quail, 
Coward  hearts  are  sure  to  fail. 

II. 

"When  glowing  hopes  of  future  joyg 
Are  scattered  like  autumnal  leaves 

Before  your  eager,  anxious  eyes, 

And  leaves  you  o'er  their  wreck  to  grieve,- 

Never  falter,  never  wait, 

Coward  hearts  are  never  great. 

III. 

When  smiling  friends  of  summer  flee, 
The  moment  sorrows  o'er  you  sweep, 

Grieve  not  because  they've  proven  false ; 
Nay,  rather  smile  instead  of  weep, 

And  hravely  face  life's  work  anew, 

For  sunshine  friends  are  never  true. 
(138) 


BE  BRAVE. 
IV. 

When  Death  doth  spread  his  sable  wing 
Above  your  mansion,  thence  to  bear 

The  treasured  darlings  of  your  heart 
Unto  the  Father,  weep  nor  fear, 

For  he  will  guard  each  blossom  rare, 

And  you  in  turn  their  joys  will  share. 

V. 

Be  true  to  God  and  to  yourself, 

Be  brave  of  heart  and  strong  of  hand, 

Whatever  cro-s  or  woe  he  sends, 
Is  but  to  test  his  chosen  band ; 

Then  fight  'gainst  wrong  to  win  the  right, 

And  wear  a  crown  of  glory  bright. 


I. 

ONCE  again  the  leaves  are  budding, 
Once  again  the  flowerets  blow 

In  their  robes  of  beauteous  rose-hue, 
Perfumed  orchards  sweetly  glow. 

II. 

Once  again  the  grass  is  growing, 
Emerald  carpet  of  the  earth, 

And  the  merry,  wild-wood  songsters 
Fill  the  air  with  joy  and  mirth. 

III. 

Now  the  joyous,  laughing  streamlet, 
Bounds  exultant  on  its  way ; 

Freed  from  nature's  icy  bondage, 
By  the  smiling  god  of  day. 

IV. 

Once  again  the  lambs  are  bleating, 
The  lowing  herds  at  evening  tide, 

Give  to  Spring  a  welcome  greeting, 
By  the  murmuring  river's  side. 
(140) 


SPRING.  141 


V. 

Yes,  'tis  Spring,  the  morn  of  seasons, 
Dawning  of  a  glad,  new  life ;. 

Making  earth  appear  an  Eden, 
Everything  with  pleasure  rife. 

VI. 

Once  again ;  ah !  we  may  never 
More  rejoice  that  Spring  is  here; 

Let  us  revel  in  her  beauties, 
Radiant  morning  of  the  year. 

VII. 

* 

But  beyond  this  world  of  shadows, 
Where  'tis  said  the  angels  sing, 

We  may  find  eternal  pleasure, 
Find  a  never-ending  SPRING. 


i. 

DESPAIR  not,  my  brother, 

Though  dark  seems  the  hour, 
Thy  fete  rests  with  Him, 

Th«  great  Father  of  power; 
Then  turn  not  faint-hearted 

From  thy  hard  task  away, 
But  rememher  'tis  darkest 

Ere  dawns  the  bright  day. 

II. 

Despair  not  when  tempests 

Thy  frail  bark  besets, 
When  the  black  waves  of  sorrow 

Submerge  it  in  depths 
Of  bitterest  anguish ; 

Be  hopeful  and  pray, 
And  remember  'tis  darkest 

Ere  dawns  the  bright  day. 

III. 

When  hearts  we  deemed  true, 

Have  false  proven  and  flown, 
And  leave  us  to  battle 
(142) 


DESPAIR  NOT.  143 


Life's  warfare  alone ; 
Mourn  not  o'er  the  lost  loves, 

Be  cheerful  and  gay, 
For  remember  'tis  darkest 

Ere  dawns  the  bright  day. 

IV. 

Despair  not,  though  Death, 

With  his  merciless  dart, 
Shoul'l  pierce  to  the  core. 

Some  fond,  trusting  heart j 
He  will  cherish  each  spirit, 

And  when  done  is  thy  day, 
Thou'lt  learn  that  'tis  darkest 

Ere  dawns  the  bright  day. 

V. 

Put  your  faith  and  your  hope 

And  your  true  love  in  God, 
For  he  gives  us  strength 

To  pass  under  his  rod; 
For  though  deep  is  the  gloom, 

Still  we  see  a  faint-  ray 
That  tells  us  'tis  darkest 

Ere  dawns  the  bright  day. 


tk  i\t 


i. 

'Tis  a  tribute  of  love  from  true  Christians, 

To  strew  each  lone,  verdant  bed 
With  flowers  fresh,  fragrant  and  glowing, 

'Tis  honor  due  unto  the  dead 
Heroes  that  fought  'neath  the  standard 

Of  glorious  red,  white  and  blue, 
All  fearless  of  Death  and  his  terrors, 

So  gallant,  so  dauntless,  so  true. 

II. 

They  gave  their  hearts'  blood  to  defend  it, 

The  banner  of  freedom  so  grand, 
Nor  wept  when  they  left  the  dear  loved  ones, 

With  saber  and  rifle  in  hand ; 
They  quailed  not  when  war's  deadly  thunders 

Shook  the  earth  with  its  terrific  roar ; 
For  their  country  they  gloried  in  dying, 

For  HER  drenched  the  sod  with  their  gore. 

III. 

Full  many  a  gallant  young  soldier, 

Brave  sons  of  the  great  war-god  Mars, 
Lie  friendless,  unwept  and  uncared  for, 
(144) 


MAIDENS  DECK  THE  SOLDIERS'  GRAVES.  145 

'Neath  heaven's  bright  sentinel  stars  ; 
O'er  these,  ye  maidens  angelic, 

Shed  sympathy's  tenderest  tears, 
Strew  the  lone  graves  with  bright  garlands, 

Your  reward  will  come  in  future  years. 

IV. 

Then  strew  ye  the  graves  of  our  soldiers, 

And  strew  ye  each  lone,  mossy  bed, 
With  flowers  fresh,  fragrant  and  glowing, 

The  tribute  is  due  to  the  dead 
Heroes  that  fought  'neath  the  standard 

Of  glorious  red,  white  and  blue, 
All  fearless  of  Death  and  his  terrors, 

So  gallant,  so  dauntless,  so  true. 


10 


i. 

PAUSE,  my  brother,  why  should  we 
Pass  the  orphan  by  unheeded  ? 

Why,  what  has  he  done  to  thee, 
That  such  cruel  words  are  meted 

Out  to  the  poor  orphan  boy, 

'Neath  yon  darkly  frowning  sky? 

n. 

A  beggar,  yes ;  whose  fault  ?  not  his, 
For  it  thou'lt  not  leave  him  starving, 

Surely,  thou  a  mite  will  give  ; 

Heavens !  think  of  thine  own  darling, 

Suffering  hunger,  suffering  cold, 

The  anguish  of  which  ne'er  was  told. 

III. 

A  thief  perchance,  who  made  him  so? 

Want,  an  iron-handed  master, 
When  the  rich  man  bids  him  go, 

Then  this  demon  holds  him  faster ; 
Die  he  will  not,  live  he  will, 
Have  mercy  nor  his  poor  soul  kill. 
(146) 


HAVE  CHARITY.  147 

IV. 

Bight,  my  brother,  God  will  bless  thee 

For  this  one  act  of  kindness ; 
See  the  poor  boy  feebly  press 

Thy  hands  and  brush  away  the  blindness 
From  his  eyes,  bright,  grateful  tears, 
The  first  he  may  have  shed  for  years. 

V. 

There,  my  boy,  accept  this  mite, 

Small  in  sooth ;  yet  if  each  Christian 

Would  contribute  such  a  tithe 
To  the  orphans,  what  a  vision 

Of  rejoicing  would  appear, 

Where  now  all  is  dark  and  drear. 


ntztwn  anir 


AN  ALLEGORY. 


I. 

QUEEN  LILYBELLE  of  Flora's  court, 
Who  loves  her  robes  of  snow  to  sport, 
Once  glancing  at  a  violet  blue, 
Exclaimed:  "You're  poor  and  simple  too; 
Why  don't  you  dress  in  robes  of  white, 
Pure  as  the  moon's  rare,  silver  light? 
Why  don't  you  hold  your  head  on  high, 
That  you  may  see  what's  passing  by, 
Nor  linger  there,  drooping  and  low, 
Where  of  the  world  naught  you  can  know  ?  " 

II. 

"  Because,"  the  violet  meek  replied, 
"  My  Maker  made  me  without  pride  ; 
A  lowly,  humble  flower  am  I, 
While  you  were  bred  to  hold  on  high 
Your  beauteous  head  like  diademed  queen; 
By  rude,  refined  you  may  be  seen  ; 
The  unfeeling  of  your  sweets  may  taste, 
Then  onward  press  with  cruel  haste ; 
The  thoughtless  and  the  sin-stained  too 
May  pause  your  beauty  rare  to  view. 
(148) 


A  QUESTION  AND  ANSWER.  149 

The  lurid  sun  sips  fiercely  all 
The  dew  that  in  your  heart  doth  fall ; 
You're  doomed  to  full  and  swift  decay, 
Your  beauty  lingers  but  a  day. 

III. 

While  I  low  nestling  in  the  grass, 
Escape  the  vulgar  as  they  pass ; 
Nor  can  the  sun  sip  up  the  dew 
That  cooling  gems  my  breast  so  blue. 
I  live  content  with  what  I've  got, 
Grateful  to  God  for  this  my  lot; 
Nor  covet  that  to  others  given, 
For  which  I'll  bloom  again  in  heaven. 


I. 

BRIGHT  star,  clearly  shining, 

To  illumine  our  way, 
When  darkness  and  sorrow 

Sweeps  o'er  us ; 
Resplendent  thy  luster  and 

Peerless  thy  ray, 
Ever  gloriously  blazing 
Before  us. 

II. 

Hope,  beauteous  deceiver 

Of  trusting  mankind, 
Were  it  not  for  thy  mystic 

Encoring, 
In  idle  abandon  would  slumber 

The  mind, 

Proud  genius  and  talent 
Ignoring. 

III. 

Thy  presence  to  life 

Fans  ambition's  proud  flame, 
And  arouses  the  soul's 
Best  endeavors ; 
(150) 


HOPE.  151 

Thy  votary  untiring  doth 

Toil  to  win  fame, 
Till  the  harvest  of  victory 
He  gathers. 

IV. 

Some  call  thee  of  life 

The  sole  arrant  bane, 
A  chimera  shapeless, 

And  shallow ; 
But  what  would  be  earth 

Were  it  not  for  thy  reign ; 
Hope,  every  true  man 
Thy  name  hallows. 

V. 

The  young  hopes  for  pleasure, 

The  toiler  success, 
The  aged  for  repose  at  death's 

Portals  ; 
The  soldier  for  Fame's  sanguine 

Glory-dyed  crest, 
And  the  dying,  joy  with 
The  immortals. 

VI. 

Then  let  us  hope  on,  radiant  star, 

Never  vail 
Thy  luster  from  those  thou 

Art  cheering, 
But  shine  on  a  bright 

Beacon, 

Through  tempest  and  gale,  till  we  reach 
That  bright  port  we  are  nearing. 

..._'**  -    ~ •*'-^"t- 


0*1*2  in 

I. 


THERE  is  poetry  in  Autumn, 

In  the  softly  falling  leaves, 
In  the  song  of  merry  wild  birds, 

As  they  flutter  'mong  the  trees  ; 
In  the  rippling  of  the  streamlet, 

In  the  setting  of  the  sun, 
In  the  mists  that  from  the  valleys 

Float  in  clouds  of  vapor  dun. 

II. 

There  is  poetry  in  Autumn, 

When  the  farmer  proudly  gleans 
The  fruits  of  months  of  labor, 

When  he  stores  the  golden  grains  ; 
When  he  plucks  the  purple  wine  grape, 

And  the  apples  golden,  russet,  red  ; 
When  he  thanks  the  God  of  nature 

For  the  blessings  on  him  shed. 

III. 

Thera  is  poetry  in  Autumn, 

When  we  through  the  woodlands  rove, 
In  each  brier,  shrub  and  thicket, 

In  each  flaming  maple  grove, 
In  the  robes  of  gold  and  purple, 
(152) 


THERE  IS  POETRY  IN  AUTUMN.  153, 

That  each  forest  king  doth  wear ; 
In  the  clinging  moss  so  verdant, 
In  the  meadows  hrown  and  sear. 

IV. 

There  is  poetry  in  Autumn, 

In  the  squirrel  blithe  and  gay, 
Who  'mid  mirth-provoking  antics, 

Hides  his  winter  store  away  ; 
In  the  lads  that  go  a-nutting, 

Feet  and  faces  brown  and  bare, 
In  the  lasses  gayly  decking 

With  berries  red  their  wealth  of  hair. 

V. 

There  is  poetry  in  Autumn, 

And  it  thrills  my  soul  to  see 
All  nature  joyous  offering 

Homage  to  the  Deity ; 
Then  shall  man  alone  be  grateless 

For  the  gifts  to  him  outpoured, 
Nor  prostrate  him  in  thanksgiving 

To  Jehovah,  nature's  Lord? 


BUTTERCUPS  and  daisies, 

Little  gems  of  light, 
Peeping  through  the  mosses, 

Gold  and  pearly  white. 

II. 

Primroses  and  violets, 

Emblems  of  guileless  youth ; 
Innocence  and  virtue, 

Tender,  loving  truth. 

III. 

Bluebells  bright  and  cowslips 
Deck  the  meadows  green, 

Sweetest  little  floral  stars 
That  in  spring  are  seen. 

IV. 

When  the  sun  is  highest 
In  each  perfumed  heart, 

A  bright  dew-drop  lingers, 

As  if  loth  to  part — 

(154) 


SPRING  FLOWERS.  155 

V. 

From  its  chosen  blossom ; 

As  it  fain  would  keep 
The  fragile  thing  from  danger, 

Waking  or  asleep. 

VI. 

Thus  our  guardian  angel 

Hovers  loving  nigh, 
Shielding  us  from  danger 

Till  we  reach  our  home  on  high. 


i. 

FOR  months  I've  been  searching 

In  fancy,  now  mind, 
Maps,  atlases,  histories, 

Endeavoring  to  find 
The  court  of  the  Muses ; 

All  vainly  I  sought, 
With  pitiful  failure 

My  searching  was  fraught. 

II. 

To  the  heights  of  Parnassus 

At  first  I  repaired, 
Where  the  nine  peerless  ladies 

Were  tutored  and  reared  ; 
But  never  a  one  of  the  Nine  did  I  flee, 

Near  the  fount  of  Hyppocrene, 
Bright,  gushing  and  free. 

II. 

Apollo,  their  sovereign, 

Was  nowhere  in  sight, 
And  Pegasus'  winged  charger, 

Had  taken  his  flight; 
All  gloom-wrapt  and  dreary 
(156) 


THE  ABODE  OP  THE  MUSES.  157 

Looked  mountain  and  lea, 
And  mourning  and  weary, 
Low  sobbed  the  dark  sea. 

IV. 

Disappointed,  half  angry, 

I  turned  me  away, 
Nor  heeded  the  sparkle 

Of  Aganippe's  spray ; 
And  straight  to  Mt.  Ida 

My  course  then  I  steered, 
Where  Jupiter  Ammon 

Was  fostered  and  reared. 

V. 

For  foolish  and  poet-like, 

Joyous  methought 
That  there  I'd  discover 

What  long  I  had  sought ; 
The  mountain  so  sacred, 

So  wondrously  famed, 
The  hill  where  Amalthea 

Great  Jove  had  sustained — 

VI. 

Where  the  Corybantes 

Had  guarded  their  king 
From  the  jaws  of  the  father. 

'Mid  dire  suffering 
I  reached  in  due  season, 

Unaided,  unknown, 
To  find  that  my  Muses 

Far  from  me  had  flown. 


158  THE  ABODE  OF  THE  MUSES. 

VII. 

To  the  island  of  Delos 

I  pointed  my  course, 
Resolved  to  discover 

My  ladies  perforce  ; 
To  the  home  of  Latona 

My  fancy  did  fly, 
The  birthplace  of  deities, 

Sacred  and  high. 

VIII. 

Where  Diana  of  chastity, 

Goddess  and  queen, 
Watched  over  Apollo 

With  sisterly  mien, 
And  thwarted  fierce  Juno's 

Revengeful  design, 
And  rules  o'er  the  hunter 

With  smiling  benign. 

IX. 

I  searched  the  fair  island, 

Hill,  valley  and  cover, 
But  never  a  Muse 

Did  poor  fancy  discover. 
The  Synagogues  Jewish, 

The  temples  of  Ind, 
The  shrines  of  fell  Grunga, 

And  Bowanee's  the  fiend — 

X. 

I  searched  half  despairing, 
But  nothing  was  there  : 


THE  ABODE  OP  THE  MUSES.  159 

No,  the  Muses  coquettish, 

Were  acting  unfair. 
Then  Egypt's  dark  pyramids 
»  Lured  one  to  come, 
St.  Peter's  Cathedral 

Me  welcomed  to  Rome. 

XI. 

Catacombs,  vestry,  hall, 

Palace  and  tomb, 
Mosque,  forest  and  valley, 

In  sunlight  and  gloom, 
I  searched  long  and  patient, 

All  vain  'twas  alack, 
To  me  my  fair  Muses 

Failed  e'er  to  come  back. 

XII. 

Great,  great  was  the  chagrin 

I  silent  endured, 
The  spook  of  ambition 

Felt  highly  injured; 
To  find  their  retreat 

By  false  means  or  fair, 
Was  my  resolve,  in 

Which  fancy  took  share. 

XIII. 
Oh,  how  these  gay  Musea 

In  sport  must  have  laughed 
As  the  nectar  of  poetry 

Daily  they  quafted ; 
But  I  was  in  earnest, 


160  THE  ABODE  OF  THE  MUSES. 

To  Greece  I  returned, 
Where  Troy,  famous  city, 
Was  pillaged  and  burned. 

XIV. 
'Mid  the  ruins  I  wandered, 

In  awe  I  reviewed, 
Through  the  vista  of  ages, 

The  war  steed  of  wood  ; 
In  whose  hollow  body 

The  Greeks  were  concealed, 
Who  opened  the  gates 

And  Troy's  secrets  revealed. 

XV. 

I  gazed  upon  Helen, 

The  spoiler  of  Troy  ; 
By  her  charms  all  excelling, 

Paris  she  decoyed ; 
And  Hector  avenging 

The  wrong,  lowly  fell ; 
In  Elysium,  the  heaven 

Where  ancient  gods  dwell, 

XVI. 

'Tis  said  that  the  hero 

Of  Homer  resides; 
Let  no  sedate  Christians 

The  saying  deride. 
But  vain  was  my  voyage, 

No  Muse  lingered  there, 
And  I  vowed  to  pursue  them 

Through  sea,  sky  and  air. 


11 


THE  ABODE  OP  THE  MUSES.  161 

XVII. 

To  the  mine£  of  Siberia, 

Relentless  I  hied, 
But  alas  for  my  ardor, 

With  anguish  I  cried  j 
My  furs  I'd  forgotten, 

My  garments  were  thin, 
The  ice  and  the  tempests 

They  ruthless  let  in. 

XVIII. 

My  teeth  were  a-chatter, 

My  face  it  was  blue, 
Cold  as  Hecate's  heart, 

My  benumbed  limbs  grew. 
The  Muses  I  hated, 

For  what?  their  fell  pride  J 
And  but  for  Sol's  warmth, 

I  think  I  had  died. 

XIX. 
They  may  have  been  there, 

I'm  not  positive  now, 
For  I  fled  from  that  region, 

Well,  I  can  not  tell  how ; 
I  encountered  no  Muse 

On  the  frost-bestrewn  track, 
To  the  realms  of  heat, 

With  joy  I  flew  back. 

XX. 

At  length,  sad  and  weary, 


162  THE  ABODE  OF  THE  MUSES. 

I  faced  my  dear  home, 
Unrewarded  and  dreary, 

All  joyless  and  lone  ; 
And  I  wept  from  sheer  anger, 

To  think  I  was  foiled, 
That  for  naught  I  had  traveled, 

Schemed,  struggled  and  toiled. 

XXI. 

When  home  I  returned, 

With  dull,  leaden  heart, 
To  my  friend,  the  Professor, 

I  flew  to  impart 
The  miserable  tidings  ; — 

All  smiling  he  heard, 
No  chord  of  kind  pity 

My  wretched  tale  stirred. 

XXII. 

"  Professor,  you're  heartless," 

Indignant  I  cried, 
"  With  eyes  if  not  tongue, 

All  my  woes  you  deride." 
He  laughed  at  my  anger, 

Then  kindly  he  said  : 
"  Just  listen  one  moment, 

Nay,  shake  not  your  head  j 

XXIII. 

"  'Tis  the  error  of  many," 
He  smiling  went  on. 

"  To  chase  after  fancies, 
Then  find  them  all  gone  ; 


THE  ABODE  OP  THE  MUSES.  163 

They  travel,  vain  seeking, 

In  Asia  and  Rome, 
What,  if  they  but  knew  it, 

Is  always  at  home." 

XXIV. 

He  opened  a  chamber, 

Rich  was  its  design, 
Wherein  sat  the  peerless, 

The  immortal  Nine ; 
I  gazed  unbelieving, 

But  found  it  was  so, 
And  I  ne'er  have  ceased  thanking 

Good  Prof.  Rippetoe. 


i. 

I  AM  a  son  of  Erin  fair, 

And  proudly  do  I  claim 
Her  as  the  brightest  heritage, 

Queen  of  unrivaled  fame — 
Land  of  my  birth,  my  boyhood's  home, 

Far  o'er  the  tossing  main,       * 
With  breaking  heart  I  sadly  roam, 

Devoid  of  friend  or  name. 

II. 

Banished  from  thee,  my  native  isle, 

A  fugitive  I've  flown, 
Loosed  by  a  friendly  turnkey, 

An  exile  doomed  to  roam  ; 
Because  I  loved  my  country  best, 

Defied  the  Saxon's  power, 
As  many  a  hero,  good  and  great, 

Defied  that  curse  before. 

III. 
A  Fenian,  yes,  I  joined  that  band 

Of  brothers  brave,  to  fight 
For  Erin ;  to  rend  her  chains,  • 
(164) 


THE  FENIAN  EXILE'S  RESOLVE.  165 

And  chase  away  the  night 
Of  bondage,  that,  like  thunder  cloud, 

Hung  o'er  our  isle  so  green, 
Until  God's  glorious  sunburst  breaks 

O'er  her  in  golden  sheen. 

IV. 

Until  the  blood  of  EMMET  shed, 

By  Britons'  ruthless  hands, 
Is  thrice  ten  thousand  times  avenged 

By  Erin's  noblest  sons  ; 
Until  the  flag  of  emerald  green, 

Floats  ne'er  more  to  come  down, 
O'er  ocean's  wave,  o'er  peasant's  hut, 

O'er  ruins  gray,  long  brown. 

V. 

Think  ye  the  spirits  of  the  dead 

Heroes  that's  passed  away, 
Rest  peaceful  in  their  lonesome  graves, 

While  o'er  their  hallowed  clay, 
Doth  pass  the  feet  of  cringing  slaves, 

Who  wear  the  Saxon  yoke, 
Nor  dare  their  masters  to  enrage 

By  one  AVENGING  STROKE? 

VI. 

Think,  brothers,  of  our  isle  so  green, 

Think  of  her  maids  so  fair, 
Whose  eyes  excel  the  heaven's  deep  blue, 

And  their  bright,  waving  hair  ; 
Think  of  them  as  they  nurture  slaves 

Upon  their  breasts  so  pure ; 


166  THE  FENIAN  EXILE'S  IlESOLVE. 

And  while  ye  think,  ask  of  your  hearts, 
"  Must  we  this  e'er  endure  ?  " 

VII. 

No,  by  the  faith  our  fathers  loved, 

No,  by  all-holy  power, 
No,  by  the  blood  of  brave  hearts  shed, 

In  England's  gloomy  towers, 
Her  daughters  shall  not  nurture  slaves 

Much  longer,  soon  the  day 
Will  come  when  thousands  swords  will  gleam 

To  sweep  our  foes  away. 

VIII. 
We'll  wash  in  blood  from  Irish  soil, 

Cursed  slavery's  darksome  stain, 
And  drive  our  foemen  in  the  sea, 

As  'fore  we  drove  the  Dane  ; 
As  Fingal  brave  made  Citric's  grave, 

Deep  in  the  watery  main ; 
Together  we  will  fight  or  fall, 

Till  Ireland's  free  again. 

IX. 

Then,  Fenian  brothers,  let  us  join 

Our  vows  with  one  accord, 
To  sweep  from  Erin's  lovely  isle 

The  red-coat  and  the  lord; 
And  with  our  trust  in  God  on  high, 

Who  rules  all  earthly  things, 
We'll  battle  bravely  till  our  isle, 

NO  MORE  IS  SLAVE  OF  KINGS  t 


I. 

DEAR  friend  of  mine,  fain  would  I  breathe 

In  words  the  gratitude  I  bear, 
But  though  of  womankind,  my  tongue 

Would  sadly  fail  me  then  I  fear  ; 
So  pen  and  muse  must  do  the  task, 

And  blithely  sing  a  little  lay, 
A  tribute  that  thou  wilt  accept, 

Sincerely  from  my  soul  I  pray. 

II. 

For  when  I  needed  one  to  guide 

The  fiery  steed  Pegasus  straight, 
Say,  was't  not  thou  who  held  the  reins 

Of  Fancy  pointing  to  the  gate 
Of  bright  success  to  which  I  turned  ? 

And  aided  by  thy  words  of  cheer, 
Kept  bravely  on  and  gladly  learned 

The  value  of  thy  wisdom  dear. 

III. 

And  was  it  not  thy  merry  smile, 

That  chased  all  lurking  doubts  away 

From  me  a  timid  woman-child, 
Yielding  to  influences'  sway ; 
(167) 


168  TO  MRS.  MARY  HELM. 

Now  sad,  now  bright, 

Just  as  the  light  rains 
Dim  the  skies  of  April  day  ? 

IV. 

And  when  my  days  of  toil  were  done, 

With  many  a  wise  and  timely  word, 
Thou  badest  me  guard  the  prize  I  won ; 

For  simple  as  a  half-fledged  bird, 
I  longed  to  try  my  pinions  gay, 

And  flutter  through  th  •  world  so  wide ; 
But  gently  saidst  thou  :  "Alice  May, 

Let  good  Dame  Prudence  be  thy  guide." 

V. 
And  so  I  shall,  but  thou,  kind  friend, 

Musi  watch  the  dame,  for  prudish  girls 
Are  very  nice,  that  much  I  claim, 

But  truly  happy  ones  arc  pearls  ; 
/  won't  be  prudish ;   that's  too  much  ; 

But  following  in  THY  FOOTSTEPS  PROUD, 
I'll  live  and  learn  and  love  as  such 

That  'neath  no  grievous  cares  are  bowed. 

VI. 

So  now,  good-by,  that  is  in  rhyme, 

For  every  day  we're  sure  to  meet, 
While  for  us  Fate  a  thread  of  time 

Doth  spin  along  Life's  busy  street; 
And  while  I  live,  I'll  love  thee  all, 

That  one  like  me  with  reverence  can, 
While  doing  all  my  duties  sweet, 

And  maturing  my  life's  bright  plan. 


OF  COLLEGE  HILL,  OHIO. 


I. 

FRIEND  of  woman's  sure  advancement, 

Friend  of  genius  in  her  born, 
To  make  bright  her  life  of  study, 

Thou  thy  college  hath  adorned; 
'Neath  thy  roof  to  toil  is  pleasure, 

Heart  and  brain  doth  there  expand, 
All  the  Muses  there  are  treasured 

By  thy  noble,  generous  hand. 

II. 

Euterpe,  goddess  of  sweet  music, 

Tunes  her  sad  harp  and  guitar, 
There  the  organ  'neath  her  fingers 

Swells  triumphant ;  near  and  far 
Are  its  notes  so  mellow  floating, 

While  piano-forte  rich,  rare, 
Fills  with  strains  that  seem  of  heaven, 

All  the  flower-beoerfumed  air. 

III. 
Clio,  Calliope  and  Erato, 

With  sweet  Euterpe  doth  preside 
(169) 


170  TO  JA8.  0.  C.  HOLENSHADE,  ESQ. 

In  thy  college,  o'er  the  gifted 
Ones  that  'neath  its  roof  reside ; 

Polhymnia,  Melpomene, 

Terpsichore  Thalia  sinps  and  dances, 

Dreams  and  lectures 

In  thy  palace  day  by  day ; 

IV. 

In  the  flashing  of  the  fountain, 

In  the  sparkle  of  its  epray, 
In  the  ripple  of  the  lakelet, 

In  the  fishes  sporting  gay ; 
In  the  vernal,  velvet,  sloping 

Lawn,  begemmed  with  Flora's  bloom, 
In  the  air  so  soft  and  balmy, 

In  the  flowers'  rich  perfume, 

V. 

Dwells  the  proof  of  all  thy  labor, 

Woman's  generous  friend  and  kind  ; 
Oh  !  how  can  she  ever  thank  thee, 

Thou  enricher  of  her  mind  ; 
May  her  prayers  for  thy  long-living, 

That  thy  joys  m  iy  have  increase, 
That  to  thee  she'll  prove  a  blessing, 

Be  heard  by  the  Prince  of  peace. 


mm  fiofl^r  §0ri0tt*. 


i. 

LAST  Thursday  morn,  as  jovial  Sol 

Mounted  his  car  of  gold  oa  high, 
To  make  his  circuit  round  the  earth, 

A  festive  scene  greeted  his  eye, 
As  through  the  chapel  windows  he 

Allowed  his  golden  rays  to  pour ; 
There  at  the  altar  silent,  grave, 

The  god  beheld  a  group  of  four. 

II. 

The  bride  and  bridegroom  hand  in  hand, 

Before  the  priest  low,  reverent  bowed, 
The  bridesmaid  and  the  groomsman  stand 

With  looks  half  fearful  and  half  proud ; 
The  words  that  joined  the  two  in  one 

Were  spoken,  and  the  blessings  said, 
Fond,  loving  friends  were  gathered  there, 

To  smile  upon  the  newly  wed. 

III. 

The  day  god  smiled  upon  the  bride, 

He  kissed  the  softly  blushing  cheek, 
For  he  resolved  no  cloud  should  come 
(171) 


172  TO  ANNIE  HOFHER  GORIOU8. 

To  cause  that  loving  one  to  weep  ; 
He  smiled  when  from  her  parents  dear, 

The  bridegroom  bore  her  w  th  proud  hea< 
Her  tender  sighs  were  not  of  fear, 

The  tears  were  joyous  which  she  shed. 

IV. 

Then  may  the  future  for  her  be 

As  bright  and  cloudless  as  the  day 
When  Sol,  in  all  his  brill  ancy, 

Illumed  the  vaulted,  milky  way ; 
May  flowers  of  hope  and  love  divine, 

Bestrew  the  path  o'er  which  she  treads, 
And  Heaven's  blessing  rare,  sublime, 

Rest  quietly  on  her  youthful  head. 


nrw  (Irstofcrrir 


i. 

So,  Jennie,  thou'rt  wedded, 

And  ended's  the  span 
Of  thy  maidenhood  joyous, 

At  thy  birth  which  began ; 
Thou'rt  happy,  I  know  it, 

By  the  blush  on  thy  cheeks, 
And  thy  bright  eyes  soft  glowing, 

That  with  eloquence  speaks. 

II. 

We  are  glad  and  we're  sorry, 

That  for  thee  is  o'er 
Thy  girlhood  days  merry ; 

Alas  !  and  no  more 
Canst  thou  join  our  frolics, 

For  chained  fast  for  life, 
Art  thou,  dearest  Jennie, 

Since  becoming  a  wife. 

III. 

Well,  Jennie,  he  happy, 
And  never  complain, 
But  let  thy  heart  beat 
(173) 


174  TO  JENNIE  CRAWFORD  DAVIS. 

To  the  silver  refrain 
Of  love  and  contentment ; 

Be  blithesome  and  free, 
For  the  love  of  thy  schoolmates 

Is  ever  with  thee. 

IV. 

And  may  Heaven's  rare  blessings, 

Mystic  divine, 
Rest  like  a  bright  halo 

On  that  young  head  of  thine  j 
And  may  the  dear  partner 

Thou  hast  chosen  for  life, 
Be  a  comfort  and  joy 

To  his  lovely  young  -wife. 


00te 


i. 

YES,  Jennie,  friend  of  mine,  thou'rt  wed, 

Hymen  hath  claimed  thee  for  his  own, 
Thy  maiden  days  fore'er  are  fled, 

To  love's  sweet  kingdom  thou  hast  flown  ; 
Upon  thy  brow  the  orange  blooms 

Were  gleaming  like  a  pearly  crown,  . 
Exhaling  forth  a  rare  perfume, 

Sweeter  than  frankincense  renowned. 

II. 
When  he,  the  lord  of  thy  young  heart, 

To  thee  'fore  God  and  man  was  bound 
By  silken  bonds  inwrought  with  gold, 

The  purest  that  in  heaven  is  found  j 
Upon  thy  cheek  the  roses  glowed, 

The  love-light  in  thine  eyes  was  seen, 
As  bending  'fore  the  man  of  God, 

Thou  gavest  to  him  thy  heart  serene. 

III. 
Light  was  that  heart  when  from  the  home 

Of  childhood  by  him  thou  wert  borne, 
Thy  bridegroom's  love  was  all  thine  own, 

Thy  tears  spoke  not  of  souls  that  mourn; 
Pure  joy  was  thine,  and  may  thy  life 

Be  peaceful,  blissful  as  the  day 
When  he,  thy  love,  first  called  thee  wife, 

And  won  thy  trusting  heart  away. 
(175) 


*gfe  iift. 


I. 

THERE  is  a  gift  which  mortals  prize 

Far  more  than  priceless  Orient  gems, 
'Tie  given  to  the  gay,  the  wise, 

To  peasants  ;  kings  with  diadems 
Stoop  from  their  thrones  to  taste  its  sweets ; 

They  pine,  without  it  languish,  die, 
Or  sordid  cruel,  heartless  grow, 

If  Fate  the  gift  to  them  deny. 

II. 

Parent  of  all  in  man  that's  good, 

Dark  is  the  soul  that  holds  it  not, 
The  human  heart's  life-giving  food, 

With  wondrous  magic  power  'tis  fraught ; 
It  warms  the  miser  cold  to  life, 

It  melts  the  pitiless  heart  of  stone, 
It  changes  darkness  into  light, 

Brings  joy  where  sorrow  e'er  is  known. 

III. 

It  gems  the  cheek  of  maidenhood, 

With  blushings  from  the  royal  rose, 
And  heavy  eyes  with  tear/?  bedewed, 
(176) 


THE  MAGIC  GIFT.  177 

Bright  flashes  with  its  mystic  glows  ; 
It  vails  our  faults  with  rosy  leaves, 

And  brings  rich  beauty  to  the  plain, 
The  guilt-stained  heart  repentant  heaves, 

For  it  swift  turns  to  God  again. 

IV. 

With  fetters  wrought  of  silk  and  gold, 

It  chains  fond  hearts  together  fast, 
Nor  lets  them  sunder  that  sweet  tie, 

Till  life's  brief  waiting  span  is  past. 
Ah,  what  is  it  ?  you  breathless  ask, 

That  can  so  strangely  powerful  prove, 
I'll  answer,  friends,  triumphant  that, 

'Tis  deathless,  heaven-born,  loyal  love. 


(179) 


i. 

HE  has  flown  from  our  presence, 

Beloved  of  the  Muses, 
That  reign  o'er  the  souls  of 

True  poets  through  time; 
They  mourn  o'er  his  ashes, 

The  sad  tear  suffuses 
Their  orbs  of  rare  luster 
And  beauty  sublime. 

II. 

They  loved  him,  our  Azel ! 

His  mind  of  great  promise 
Was  stored  with  rich  thoughts 

That  from  Helicon  flow ; 
They  honored  their  subject, 

With  gifts  all  excelling, 

For  they  deemed  he  a  star 

Literary  would  glow. 

III. 

From  the  heights  of  Parnassus 
The  immortal  Nine  watched, 
Guarding  their  treasure  ; 
(181) 


182  A.  P.  NEWKIEK,  ESQ. 

While  gloriously 
They  sought  to  inspire  his  soul 

With  an  ardor 
As  warm  as  the  loves 

Of  the  fabled  Peri, 

IV. 

That  charms  all  the  lords 

Of  the  far  sunny  Orient; 
(Her  beauty  in  human 

None  ever  could  see) 
As  lavish  their  gifts,  as  the 

Waves  of  Hyppocrene, 

That  ripples  bright  gushing 

In  fetterless  glee. 

V. 

From  'neath  the  gold  hoofs 

Of  Pegasus,  winged  charger, 
As  glides  the  broad  tides 

Of  the  blue  ocean  free, 
They  crowned  him  with  genius, 

This  pet  of  the  Muses; 
Calliope  of  eloquence,  goddess  and  queen, 
Yielded  her  wealth; 

VI. 

Till  with  soul-stirring  pathos 

His  voice  would  excite 
Every  sympathy  keen 

That  lurked  in  the  breast 

Of  the  dullest  of  mortals ; 

' 

And  when  to  poesy  he  chose  to  incline, 


A.  P.  NEWKIRK,  ESQ.  183 

With  magic-like  power 

He  would  ope  the  soul's  portals, 
To  mirth  tender  sadness, 
Or  sweet  love  sublime. 

VII. 

And  who  that  e'er  knew  him, 

But  lelt  the  attractions 
Of  numberless  beauties, 

That  to  his  mind  clung; 
The  gayety,  wit  and  free 

Spirit,  thoughts  matchless, 
That  like  laurel  garlands 
Around  his  brows  hung. 

VIII. 

At  home  and  abroad, 

Ever  gay  and  light-hearted, 
He  thought  not  to  toil 

For  the  world's  rich  pelf, 
But  lived  fondly  dreaming, 
Nor  heeded  the  passage 
Of  years,  both  forgetful 
Of  time  and  himself. 

IX. 

He  died  in  the  vigor 

Of  noble  young  manhood, 
Afar  from  those  that  would 

Love  and  defend ; 
Grim  mysterv  shrouds 

In  a  mantle  of  shadow, 


184  A.  P.  NEWKIRK,  ESQ. 

The  fate  of  our  countryman, 
Brother  and  friend. 

X. 

But  who  that  hath  lost 

A  beloved  son  or  brother, 
Can  repress  a  deep  sigh, 
Or  pity's  sad  tear  ; 
Oh,  who  but  sore  grieved 

For  the  silver-haired  mother, 
As  she  drooped  o'er  her  Azcl's 
Dark  funereal  bier. 

XI. 

He  is  gone ;  'neath  the  sod 

His  pulseless  heart  slumbers, 
Forgotten  by  strangers, 
His  sorrowful  fate; 
But  the  poet,  sad-hearted, 

In  mournful  numbers, 
The  tale  of  his  worth 

And  high  genius  relates. 

XII. 

As  a  star  that  in  glory 

Arises  at  evening, 
Through  the  dusk  brow  of  heaven, 

Triumphant  it  hies ; 
When  lo,  from  the  north 

Comes  the  tempest-cloud  driven 
By  fierce  howling  winds, 

That  career  through  the  skies. 


A.  P.  NEWKIRK,  ESQ.  185 

XIII. 

The  gloomy  vail  hides 

Its  but  half  revealed  splendor, 
And  darkness  supreme, 

O'er  the  vast  expanse  reigns. 
The  storm  spirit  ruthless 

Its  ray  doth  extinguish, 
And  Nature  thus  robbed 

Of  her  treasure,  remains 

XIV. 

Shrouded  in  darkness, 

-Despairingly  mourning, 
While  fast  fall  her  tears 

As  the  bright  summer  rain, " 
Nor  dreams  of  the  light 

That  must  so  n  be  returning, 
With  Hope,  Heaven's  balm, 
To  assuage  all  her  pains. 

XV. 

Thus  vanished  our  friend, 

From  the  home  of  the  mortals; 
Death  cruel  extinguished 

His  soul's  ardent  fire, 
Blasting  the  hopes  that 

Cheer  on  to  Fame's  portals, 
And  stilling  forever 
His  musical  lyre. 

XVI. 
But,  Azel,  beyond 

This  vale  woe-beshadowed, 


186  A.  P.  NEWKIEK,  ESQ. 

In  that  bright  spirit  land 

Where  'tis  said  angels  dwell, 

Thy  friends  hope  to  meet  thee, 
Rejoicing  and  hallowed, 

Chanting  praise  unto  Him 

Who  doeth  all  things  well. 


I. 

THOU  hast  vanished  from  our  presence, 

Amy  dear,  devoted  friend, 
For  thee  in  youth's  bright  morning, 

Fleeting  Time  attained  his  end; 
Closed  on  earth  are  thy  tender  eyea, 

Thy  voice  we'll  hear  no  more, 
But  triumphantly  thou'rt  chanting 

Hymns  on  heaven's  mystical  shore. 

II. 

Bending  'fore  the  throne  of  Jesus, 

Father,  Spirit,  martyred  Son, 
Thou  art  praising  him  who  gloriously 

Our  souls'  redemption  won. 
On  thy  brow  the  saints'  bright  halo, 

Resplendently  doth  shine, 
Nor  sin  nor  sorrow  e'er  can  dim 

Or  mar  thy  bliss  divine. 

III. 

Often,  Amy,  I  am  dreaming, 

Gently  dreaming,  friend,  of  thee, 
What  time  the  moon  is  softly  gleaming 
(187) 


188  MISS  AMY  GILCHRIST. 

O'er  the  lonesome  hill  and  lea, 
What  time  the  spirit  tender  whispers 

Of  the  mystic  home  beyond, 
Where  the  dear  departed  loved  ones, 

Are  watching,  waiting  fond. 

IV. 

And  I  dream  of  thee  as  smiling 

O'er  the  troubles  of  this  life, 
Of  thine  influence  as  aiding 

Thy  beloved  through  earthly  strife; 
And  I  know  that  thou  art  waiting 

Parents,  sisters,  kindred  friends, 
At  heaven's  radiant  portals, 

Where  all  spirit  struggle  ends. 


oftus. 


i. 

SHE  is  not  dead,  but  calmly  sleeping, 

The  last  long  sleep  that  mortals  know, 
While  parents  fond  are  sadly  weeping, 

And  moaning:  "Oh,  why  did  she  go?" 
A  mother's  heart  is  slowly  breaking, 

A  father's  tears  in  silence  flow, 
Brothers  strong  with  grief  are  chafing, 

'Neath  anguish  keen  their -heads  doth  bow. 

II. 

But  she,  beloved  by  all  that  knew  her, 

Now  mingles  with  Christ's  spotless  fold ; 
The  face  of  our  loved,  blessed  Savior, 

'Tis  her  pure  joy  now  to  behold ; 
A  halo  of  unfading  glory, 

Her  angel  brows  softly  entwine, 
And  harping  with  the  heavenly  harpers, 

She  smiling  bows  Tore  Jesus'  shrine. 

III. 

She  was  a  daughter  dutiful, 

With  spirit  gentle,  mild  and  meek, 
And  from  her  life  we  blossoms  cull, 
(189) 


190  MISS  MARY  LOFTUS. 

Breathing  of  innocence  most  sweet; 
She  passed  from  midst  us  like  a  flower, 

Touched  by  the  chilling  breath  of  frost, 
Fading  unseen  until  the  hour 

When  loving  hearts  knew  she  was  lost. 

IV. 

Lost  to  this  world  of  endless  sorrow, 

Restored  to  heaven,  from  whence  she  came ; 
For  Death,  the  Reaper  of  the  flowers, 

Bore  back  to  Christ  her  spirit's  flame  ; 
But  thou,  0  God,  remember  those 

From  whom  thou  hast  reclaimed  thine  own, 
Send  thou  from  heaven  a  balm  to  soothe 

The  hearts  where  Woe  her  seeds  hath  sown. 


nrfijelir. 


i. 

OH  !  Amanda,  oh !  Amanda, 

Long  departed  sister  dear, 
Can  thy  spirit  bright  remember 

All  the  friends  and  loved  ones  dear? 
Can  it  watch  far  through  the  vistas 

Of  blue,  mystic,  boundless  space, 
Marking  all  our  earthly  actions, 

From  that  high  and  holy  place  ? 

II. 

Oh  !  Amanda,  oh  !  Amanda, 

Bright  and  spotless  child  of  God, 
Bitter  were  our  hearts'  repinings, 

As  we  bowed  beneath  his  rod; 
When  the  Reaper  of  the  flowers, 

Bore  thee  from  those  loving  here, 
Unto  Him  who  reigns  in  glory, 

Lord  of  heaven's  resplendent  sphere. 

III. 

Oh  !  Amanda,  oh  !  Amanda, 
Dwelling  in  the  courts  of  love, 

Chanting  praises  to  the  Savior, 
Who  left  his  throne  above ; 

To  atone  unto  the  Father 
(191) 


192  MISS  AMANDA  SCOFIELD. 

For  a  wor.d  ;  that  world  to  save 

From  the  depths  of  fearful  sorrow, 

And  the  soul  from  Folly's  grave. 

IV. 

Wilt  thou  watch  and  wait  our  coming? 

Wilt  thou  greet  us  at  the  gate, 
Where  alike  the  poor  and  lowly 

Enter  with  the  rich  and  great?     • 
Wilt  thou,  by  some  angel  power, 

Tell  us  when  the  day  is  nigh, 
That  the  angel  of  the  shadow, 

Is  to  bear  our  souls  on  high  ? 

V. 

Fare  thee  well,  beloved  sister, 

Gentle  daughter,  loving  friend, 
All  who  knew  thee  in  thy  lifetime, 

Hope  to  meet  thee  when  the  end 
Of  Time  for  them  hath  vanished, 

To  the  strange  and  buried  past; 
And  solved  are  heaven's  secrets, 

By  their  eager  souls  at  last. 

VI. 

Fare  thee  well,  no  longer  mourning 

Bitterly,  rebellious,  sad, 
Are  the  hearts  of  thy  beloved  ones, 

But  to  hope's  refrain  so  glad  ; 
Father's,  mother's,  sister's,  brother's 

Hearts  are  keeping  happy  time, 
For  they  deem  erelong  to  meet  thee, 

In  the  realms  of  bliss  sublime. 


I. 

BRITANNIA  is  a  lovely  land, 

Her  castles  bold  are  old  and  hoary, 
For  in  them  ruled  with  lordly  hand, 
And  serfs  low  bowed  'neath  their  command, 
Full  many  a  knight  in  feudal  glory. 

II. 

Britannia's  bards  are  lofty  famed, 

And  prone  to  sing  their  monarch's  praises, 
Who  in  the  by-gone  ages  reigned, 
When  kings  were  men,  and  seldom  feigned 
False  sentiments  in  act  or  phrases. 

III. 

Britannia's  kings  were  royal  born, 

And  bred  to  rule  that  lovely  nation, 
And  never  was  a  Tudor  head 
Bowed  'neath  the  weight  of  cruel  dread, 
That  haunt  most  men  of  lofty  station. 

IV. 

'Twas  thus  it  happened  that  while  reigned 

A  glorious  line  of  Tudor  princes, 
Fair  Albion  grew  beloved  and  famed, 
13  (193) 


194  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH. 

Her  fiercest  subjects  all  were  tamed, 
Their  statesmanship  this  plain  evinces. 

V. 

The  Tudors  were  a  famous  line, 

They  all  were  learned  and  noble-hearted, 
Until  'twas  willed  by  Fate  and  Time, 
To  change  their  virtues  into  crime ; 

To  Henry  the  Eighth  this  was  imparted. 

VI. 

Now  Henry  the  Eighth  who  wore  the  crown 

Of  Albion,  was,  so  Shakespeare  tells  us, 
A  man  for  love  and  war  renowned, 
When  wealth  and  beauty  did  abound, 
And  likewise  he  was  fiercely  jealous. 

VII. 

No  sooner  did  he  mount  the  throne, 
Left  to  him  by  his  predecessors, 

Than  Arragon's  fair  princess,  known 

As  Catherine,  became  his  own, 

With  all  her  beauty,  love  and  treasures. 

VIII. 

For  years  he  lived  and  loved  his  queen, 
With  all  his  husband  fondness  tender, 
And  England's  life  was  calm,  serene  j 
He  ruled  and  wrote,  grand  was  his  mien, 
Till  he  was  styled  the  faith's  defender. 

IX. 

But  man  is  man  despite  the  say 


HENRY  THE  EIGHTH.  195 

Of  sage  that  he  can  rule  his  feeling; 
For  on  a  direful,  fatal  day, 
The  king  succumbed  to  Anne's  sway, 

And  at  her  feet  full  soou  was  kneeling. 

X. 

The  Siren  used  her  every  art, 

To  hold  in  thrall  her  royal  lover ; 
'Neath  Cupid's  lash  she  made  him  smart, 
The  king  and  queen  she  vowed  to  part, 

And  that  'neath  honor's  golden  cover. 

XI. 

The  days  crept  by  on  leaden  wings, 

Sweet  Anne  was  enchanting,  charming, 
And  Henry,  'mid  dire  sufferings 
Of  heart  and  mind  and  conscience  stings 
Was  prey  to  love  and  fear  alarming. 

XII. 

He  hated  Catherine  with  a  hate 

That  well  might  melt  an  iceberg  chilly; 

Old,  ugly,  what  meant  cruel  Fata, 

By  binding  him  in  wedded  state, 
To  one  who  suited  him  so  illy? 

XIII. 

For  days  he  pondered  in  and  out, 

He  loved  fair  Boleyn  to  distraction, 
Their  marriage  must  be  brought  about; 
But  then  beyond  the  slightest  doubt, 

His  queen  would  fain  oppose  the  action. 


196  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH. 

XIV. 

At  length,  although  of  royal  birth, 
The  highest  man  in  all  the  nation, 
He  stooped  to  ask  assistance  worth 
Far  more  than  gold,  of  one  whom  earth 
Regarded  as  of  lowly  station  j 

XV. 

Thus  proving  that,  beyond  a  doubt, 
Kings  are  like  any  other  mortals; 

With  evil  failings,  sins  about 

As  many  as  the  lowest  lout, 

That  dwells  within  our  cottage  portals. 

XVI. 

To  Cranmer  Henry  went  for  aid, 

The  wisest  churchman  of  his  realm ; 
To  him  his  majesty  portrayed 
His  love  for  Boleyn,  peerless  maid, 
And  his  own  soul  with  doubts  o'erwhelmed. 

XVII. 
Then  Cranmer  nobly  did  agree 

To  ease  his  monarch's  mind  of  trouble: 
He  bade  him  live  rejoicingly, 
Full  soon  he'd  set  him  truly  free 

From  Catherine  his  most  tiresome  double. 

XVIII. 

Soon  was  the  separation  wrought, 

Catherine's  heart  was  almost  breaking  ; 
The  work  was  with  rare  triumph  fraught, 


HENRY  THE  EIGHTH.  197 

For  her  who  Henry's  favor  sought, 
In  sooth,  'twas  a  grand  undertaking. 

XIX. 

Queen  Catherine,  o'erwhelmed  in  woe, 
Besought  her  husband's  love  protection  ; 

In  vain  the  monarch  bade  her  go, 

To  all  her  pleadings  answered  "  No," 
And  plunged  her  soul  iu  deep  dejection. 

XX. 

To  fill  the  measure  of  his  sin, 

The  Princess  Mary  from  her  mother 

He  ruthless  tore  ;  their  suffering 

He  heeded  not ;  most  cruel  king, 
He  hated  them  and  loved  the  other. 

XXI. 

The  law  was  made,  the  deed  was  done, 

Henry  with  Boleyn  was  united ; 
Rejoicing  in  the  prize  he  won, 
He  thought  not  of  the  hapless  one, 

Whose  life  he  had  so  sadly  blighted. 

XXII. 

And  in  her  far-off  lone  retreat, 

The  Queen  of  England  silent  mourned, 

She  loved  her  husband,  ('twas  unmeet) 

Aye,  worshiped  at  his  very  feet, 

And  at  his  call  would  have  returned. 

XXIII. 

Bat  he,  o'erdazzled  by  the  toy, 


198  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH. 

So  bright  and  new  and  full  of  beauty, 
Was  happy,  yes,  without  alloy 
Of  grief  for  her  great  was  his  joy 

To  find  in  Anne  love  and  duty. 

XXIV. 

At  length  one  morn  the  tidings  came, 

Th-it  Gather  ne  was  1,0  more  of  mortals; 
She  died  blessing  King  Henry's  name, 
Lauding  his  worth,  his  glory,  fame, 

Till  she  had  passed  Death's  shadowed  portals 

XXV. 

When  Henry  heard  the  tidings  sad, 

His  heart  relentless,  grimly  smote  him, 
All  pleasures  gay  were  grimly  staid, 
To  mourn  for  Catherine  all  were  bade, 

And  while  he  grieved  none  dare  approach  him 

XXVI. 

All,  ail  obeyed  the  king's  behest, 

Save  Anne,  who  in  exultation, 
Wore  dress  of  white,  she  made  the  best 
Of  all  her  friends  go  gala  dressed, 

"  For  now  I'm  queen  of  all  the  nation," 

XXVII. 
This  peerless  lady  gladly  cried. 

Alas!  for  human  pride  and  fashions, 
Just  three  months  later  An..-e  died 
U,  on  the  block — so  late  a  bride, 

The  victim    f  her  husband's  p  :ssions, 


HEN  !Y  THE  EIGHTH.  199 

XXVIII. 

For  faithlessness,  so  said  the  king, 

Who  doomed  his  late  wm  cherished  idol; 
Another  brido  he  had  in  view, 
Seymour  fair,  heart-free,  tender,  true, 
And  Henry  pan  ed  for  the  Lridal. 

XXIX. 

Beneath  a  grand  and  stately  oak, 

Poor  An  :e's  death  toll  Henry  waited  ; 
His  r..bes  were  white,  gayly  he  spoke 
Of  hounds  and  huntsmen,  and  evoked 
Much  mirth,  he  being  quite  elated. 

XXX. 

At  length  the  death-bells'  solemn  tones,' 

Upon  the  air  to  him  were  borne, 
Suggestive  of  poor  Anne's  groans, 
Her  stifled  prayer.~  and  dying  moans, 

When  ruthless  from  her  life  was  torn. 

XXXI. 

"Unleash  the  hounds,"  was  hn  command, 

"To  Seymour  Castle  let  us  turn, 
To-morrow  Lady  Jane's  fair  hand 
Will  wear  a  bride's  rich  golden  band, 

For  faithless  Anne  noi.e  shall  mourn." 

XXXII. 

The  king  brought  home  his  new-made  bride, 

He  loved  her  with  his  heart's  devotion ; 
But  she  erolong  became  his  pride, 


200  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH. 

/ 

Grave  him  an  heir,  then  calmly  died 
Thus  in  his  favor  won  promotion. 

XXXIII. 

Poor  Henry  wept  his  loss  awhile, 

But  who  can  lead  a  life  of  mourning? 
Full  soon  to  love's  sweet  silver  chime, 
Our  hero  king  was  keeping  time, 
And  for  another  bride  was  yearning. 

XXXIV. 

The  Duke  of  Cleves  a  sister  had, 
A  lady  who  loved  ostentation, 
And  Henry  though  reputed  bad 
Among  the  ladies,  she  was  glad 

To  wed  a  d  with  him  rule  the  nation. 

XXXV. 

But  oh !  alas  for  human  taste, 

When  Henry  saw  the  willing  maiden ; 
Her  head  and  carriage,  form  and  face, 
Were  void  of  beauty,  aye,  and  grace, 
With  plainness  truly  she  was  laden. 

XXXVI. 

Awhile  heroically  he  bore, 

The  dreadful  task  of  toleration, 
Then  turned  to  Cranmer  as  before, 
Who  soon  in  twa  n  his  wedlock  tore, 
And  sanctioned  too  their  separation. 

XXXVII. 

After  such  vast  experience, 


HENRY  THE  EIGHTH.  201 

One  would  dare  fancy  he  was  sated  ; 
Not  so ;  he  spared  neither  expense 
Nor  e'en  his  royal  influence, 

Till  once  again  he  had  heen  mated. 

XXXVIII. 

This  time  he  wooed  and  won  a  maid, 

Rarely,  strange,  surpassing  beauty, 
Who  of  her  consort  seemed  afraid. 
And  near  him  ever  staid, 

Nor  lacked  ehe  in  connubial  duty. 

XXXIX. 

But  Catherine  Howard,  heaven  rest, 
Her  soul  was  doomed  in  woe  to  perish ; 

Her  husband  cursed  by  fell  unrest, 

To  still  this  demon  in  his  breast, 

Condemned  to  death  the  wife  he  cherished. 

XL. 

For  ANTE  marriage  faithlessness, 

So  read  poor  Catherine's  death  warrant, 

And  Henry's  fell  bloodthirstiness, 

Was  sated  by  his  victims  thus, 
Until  his  name  became  abhorrent. 

XLI, 

Now  surely  none  would  risk  their  lives, 

By  sharing  Henry's  crown  and  scepter; 
Many  were  eao;er  to  be  wives, 
But  then  they'd  wear  the  felon's  jives, 
Kather  than  with  the  king  sip  nectar. 


202  ,        HENRY  THE  EIGHTH. 

XLIL 

Our  hero  hunted  near  and  far, 
To  find  another  would-be  ruler; 

At  last  he  won  a  Mrs.  Parr, 

A  widow  beautiful  and  far 

More  brave  than  soldier,  aye,  and  cooler. 

XLIII. 

The  new  queen  flattered  all  his  whims, 

Deemed  him  more  great  than  Alexander, 
Knew  that  the  name  of  wiser  man, 
Or  one  more  brave  since  Time  began, 
Was  never  in  the  world's  calendar. 

XLIV. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  all  her  art, 

King  Henry's  minions  plotted  'gainst  her ; 
The  king  and  queen  they  meant  to  part, 
Against  his  bride  he  steeled  his  heart, 
And  vowed  he  never  would  lament  her. 

XLV. 

The  order  for  the  queen's  arrest, 

Was  issued  by  the  cruel  tyrant; 
But  when  the  soldiers  Parr  hard  pressed, 
She  flew  unto  her  husband's  breast, 
And  for  his  mercy  was  aspirant. 

XLVI. 

She  wept  and  pleaded,  coaxed  and  praised 
His  wisdom,  greatness,  fame  and  glory, 
And  when  the  soldiers  came  he  raised 


HENRY  THE  EIGHTH.  203 

His  sword,  with  anger  fairly  blazed, 
And  doomed  them  to  the  block  so  gory. 

XLVII. 

Well,  Henry's  days  were  nearly  ran, 
His  life  of  blood  and  crime  was  ending ; 

But  think  ye  of  the  hapless  man, 

When  Death  on  him  his  work  began, 

None  dared  to  tell  him  what  was  pending. 

XL  VIII. 

He  died  unwept,  a  thing  of  fear, 

None  sighed  o'er  him  in  tender  sorrow, 

Forgotten  were  his  virtues  dear, 

Remembered  all  his  failings  drear, 

The  which  the  hardest  heart  would  harrow. 

XLIX. 

But  G-od,  great  Master  of  our  lives, 
Had  used  the  monster  king  in  order, 

To  illustrate  his  ways  most  wise, 

Change  all  not  good  unto  his  eyes, 

And  lead  us  on  to  Heaven's  bright  border. 

L. 

The  Reformation  was  the  work, 

That  Henry  through  his  loves  effected ; 
In  all  his  motives  selfish  lurked 
Self-interest,  nothing  thus  was  shirked, 
But  God's  designs  were  all  perfected. 


THE  END. 


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